Shades of Gray, Year One
by Murkatroyd
Summary: AU. Story discontinued, adopted by Lord Orion Leonis Black under title "Dragon Lord."
1. Chapter 1: Of Muggles and Malfoys

Well, this is my third story for the Harry Potter series. Readers who recognize my author name will remember my previous stories, "The Forgiveness of Sins" and "Of Darkness and Light." This one may have some elements from ODAL, but is mainly different. Basically, books 6 and 7 in particular are not going to be incorporated into this story; no Horcruxes and no Deathly Hallows, and certainly no Half-Blood Prince. Sorry if that's what you expected, but it won't happen. I might change my mind about Horcruxes, though. Oh, and we will be going through all seven years in this story. I might make a cut-off point for a second part of this in a new story if it gets too big, though. Anyway, thank you for your patience, and I hope you will contribute your thoughts to this new story, "Shades of Grey."

A/N: The following will be typed in Italics: letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, spells, and flashbacks. There won't be much Parseltongue until later on in the story. There will be very few letters and flashbacks.

Disclaimer: Any characters or spells that aren't canonical or in the original series are mine; the rest are Rowling's. This fanfic author takes no credit for original work, only work that is completely made up on the spot. Readers will know it when they see it.

So, without further ado, let the first chapter begin!

**Chapter 1: Of Muggles and Malfoys**

It could be said that the Boy Who Lived, he who defeated the strongest Dark Lord in over a century at the age of one, he who saved the wizarding world from crisis, had lived a nice, happy life. It could also be said, though without conviction, that said boy, now eleven years old, was well on his way into gaining even greater power, power that would multiply into higher and higher quantities throughout his years at the magical academy, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Whoever says this in front of Harry Potter would be a lying, no-good toerag with no brains at all to match his speculations.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had lived the life of an animal. Ever since he had been dumped unceremoniously onto his relatives' doorstep at the age of fifteen months old, he had been treated, literally, like crap. His only source of comfort was that he was not dead; this had been so for ten long years. Actually, he wouldn't have minded if he could die, for anything would be better than being smacked around non-stop by Vernon Dursley, his uncle, or being forced to cook and burn himself endlessly for his aunt, Petunia Dursley, and his cousin, Dudley.

He especially hated this: his cousin was immensely fat, immensely spoiled, and ate about four times a normal eleven year old boy's amount of food, per meal. It was a wonder that he could walk around anymore. Of course, he got away with doing so, for ever move he made seemed to have reason to torment and torture his little cousin, Harry. The young boy, with his mop of jet-black hair all over his head, his blood-red scar shaped like lightning on his forehead, and his broken glasses, would be subject to whatever temper tantrum befitted the bigger, more spoiled child. Harry often wondered what he had done to deserve this life, but knew better than to ask out loud: one rule was to never ask questions, and he was sure he didn't want answers from someone like Uncle Vernon anyway.

Vernon Dursley. The man who was responsible for making sure Harry had a rotten, miserable life. The man, who, whenever possible, saw fit to belittle Harry's parents, both of whom had apparently died in a car crash a long time ago, when he had been a year old. The man, who wanted Harry to grow up knowing nothing but misery. It was because of him that Harry had no friends, slept in the cupboard under the stairs, and couldn't succeed in school.

Thank the heavens that Rubeus Hagrid showed up when he did.

Rubeus, who was the keeper of the keys and grounds at Hogwarts, had appeared before Harry and the Dursleys on the morning of Harry's birthday. Actually... he had appeared the second Harry had turned eleven. Harry was still unsure how Rubeus had known he was eleven on that day, let alone that second, but knew better than to ask: it was undoubtedly something to do with magic. The man had informed him that he was indeed a wizard, had been accepted at Hogwarts, the most prestigious wizarding school in the world in the eyes of many, and that he would be allowed to leave his relatives' for the school year, which was from the beginning of September until the end of June. Harry was only too happy to hear this. Before they left, Rubeus told Harry to call him by his first name, because while he liked being referred to by his last name, he considered Harry to be someone very close to him and would prefer it this way. Harry was fine with this; he didn't really want to be called 'Potter' by this man when he barely knew him anyway.

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Rubeus had brought Harry to London, into a bar where everyone had demanded to shake hands with "the famous Harry Potter" at least once and through it to a high stone wall, which Rubeus tapped three times with an old umbrella. Diagon Alley was what was revealed from this. It was a magical community, like a Muggle strip-mall, with everything magical from candy to appliances for schooling. There was also a bank: this was what caught Harry's interest the most. His interest dimmed slightly, however, when he was told that it wasn't run by humans.

No, the bank, known as Gringotts, was run by goblins.

The goblins were not a bad bunch, and certainly not evil, but that didn't mean that they weren't unfriendly. Indeed, they were similarly cold and withdrawn to all of their clients. This did not change in the slightest for Harry and Rubeus. The giant man informed the goblin that Harry needed to make a withdrawal, and that they would then like to go to another vault, "on Dumbledore's orders". Harry recognized the name as one on the letter that Rubeus had given him; he was apparently the headmaster of the school, a man who Rubeus greatly respected. He idly wondered what Dumbledore was like.

After receiving the shock of his eleven-year life from seeing his vault at Gringotts, which was filled with gold and silver, and after Rubeus collected the small package for Dumbledore, they were on their way to collect other things for Harry for school. One thing he needed was robes, and so he went they were off to Madam Malkin's for just that.

"Can I help you, my dear?" asked the lady who was there, who Harry assumed was Madam Malkin herself.

"Yes," he replied, a little hesitantly. "I need to get robes for, er, Hogwarts."

She smiled. "Ah, a new student to the school, are you? Well, there's another newcomer in the back right now. I'll set you up to be fitted right away."

Harry thanked her and went to the back to wait. Another employee came to help him almost immediately, and stepped up for his fitting. A blond-haired boy was standing beside him, supposedly halfway through his fitting.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," replied Harry distractedly.

The blond boy smiled. "My father's up the street looking at broomsticks, and my mother is checking for Potions material. Maybe I'll try and smuggle a broomstick in to try out for Quidditch in the fall, if they let me. Course, they probably will..."

"Quidditch?" asked Harry, a little confusedly.

The boy beside him frowned a little.

"Are you a Muggle-born?" he asked. "Are your parents Muggles?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Rubeus told me that my father was a pure-blood, and my mother was either a half-blood or a Muggle-born; he wasn't sure which it was. So I'm a half-blood either way. I was raised by Muggles, though." He gave a small sniff of disgust as he said it, assuring the other boy that he disliked them with a passion.

The boy nodded wisely at Harry's disgust. "Yes, Muggles tend to be like that."

"You have no idea," Harry assured him. "They're horrible people, the Dursleys. They treated me like dirt, making me do about ninety-five percent of any work around the house, and my cousin made sure I never had friends in school. The only reason I couldn't do anything about it is because I didn't know I was a wizard until around midnight this morning."

The boy looked at Harry a little funnily, his earlier pompous attitude dropped slightly.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What's your surname, I mean?"

"Oh," said Harry, a little flustered; every time a human had heard who he was, they had acted a little crazy around him. He hoped that this boy was an exception. "I'm Harry Potter."

The boy turned towards him fully at this, causing a slight stretch in his robes, but he hardly cared. He stared into Harry's emerald green eyes, and only the tiniest flick towards Harry's scar was seen by Harry.

He seemed to be sizing Harry up, as though he were wondering if he should still be talking to him. Harry was a little nervous under the scrutiny; the results in his old school were never good. However, seemingly content with what he saw, the boy stuck out his hand to Harry in a respectful gesture. "It's good to finally meet you, Potter. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"I've heard of your family," said Harry, taking Draco Malfoy's hand and shaking it. "I think Rubeus mentioned them. He said that your whole lot was in Slytherin for generations."

"Never been sorted anywhere else, as far as I know," said Malfoy, his eyes never leaving Harry's, though he turned around again to continue his fitting. "I think one of the Malfoys of the 1800s was in Ravenclaw, but that doesn't matter. We're not against that house as much as the others."

"What are the other houses, anyway?" asked Harry, turning his eyes back to the woman in front of him, who was wrapping a measuring tape around his waist.

"Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," Malfoy replied. "Basically, Slytherin is for those who are ambitious and crave power in heaps and bounds. Ravenclaw is for the bookworms and those who value intelligence. Gryffindor is for those brave people who show courage and whatnot, even though most of them act before they think. And Hufflepuff... well, they're whatever's left over. Loyalty, I suppose, as well."

"So you don't like Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?" asked Harry.

"Nah," replied the blond boy carelessly. "Gryffindor is all action and no thinking, while Hufflepuff is all amateurs who can't contribute anything but loyalty."

Harry didn't really care to hear any of this, but he didn't press the point. Malfoy seemed to be willing to listen to Harry, so it was hardly Harry's place to belittle the blond boy about his beliefs. Besides, they were only beliefs and nothing more. Who was Harry to go against opinion?

"I suppose you've made your point," he said slowly, and Malfoy nodded. "As far as courage goes, I doubt I'm suited for Gryffindor, and I've never had anyone to show loyalty to, so I doubt I'm suited for Hufflepuff. I doubt I'll get into Ravenclaw – I lost the desire to do well academically a long time ago – so that leaves Slytherin. I don't see anything against me getting into Slytherin. I have wished retribution against my uncle using whatever means necessary for a long time now."

Malfoy smirked at this, to Harry's slight confusion. "What are you smirking at?" he asked, a little incredulously.

"Oh, I can just see it now," said the grinning Malfoy. "'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, in Slytherin House!' The _Daily Prophet_ would have a field day."

Harry laughed as well. Now that Malfoy mentioned it, it did seem funny after all. "I suppose you're right. The _Daily Prophet_ is some sort of publisher, I suppose?"

"Yeah, they're the wizarding world's newspaper company," said Malfoy indifferently. "Half the stuff they write is worthless anyway, so if they ever write anything of interest to you try not to take it at face value – it might be worthless and false."

"I'll be sure to remember that," said Harry.

"Good. Now that we've got that settled, let's go see Father. I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you," said Malfoy gleefully.

Harry was confused. "Don't the Malfoys hate non-purebloods in general?" he asked slowly.

"Bah!" Malfoy laughed, dismissing the issue. "Father has wanted to meet you for a long time now, Potter; he doesn't care about your blood status. He's just never been able to find you. Wherever you were, you must have been hidden well. Besides, for all we know, you might not be a half-blood. You could be pureblood. Somehow I don't think this Rubeus fellow knows anything about it, to be honest, if he's only met you this morning."

"All right, then," said Harry, feeling a lot calmer now.

The two of them paid for their robes (both had selected black and silver robes; they both shared the same color preference) and left the shop, but not before changing into their robes. Harry was not overly fond of wearing Muggle clothing at the moment, and Malfoy, who possessed no Muggle clothing, wanted to wear his new robes. Malfoy led Harry up the street, looking around for his father.

"I'm sure he was around here somewhere, but where?" he muttered to himself, looking around the Quidditch shop. He turned his eyes to the bookstore beside it. "Ah, there he is!"

Malfoy's father was standing beside a shelf containing books about the Unforgivable Curses and their properties, showing idle interest. He looked exactly like Draco, right down to the hair and eyes. Both had cold, grey eyes and bright blond hair, though his father had longer hair, coming down just past his shoulders. He was clutching a staff which seemed to gleam on one spot of it. Harry wondered idly if the man had a knife concealed in the staff.

The man looked up when he heard Malfoy's voice. He smiled.

"Ah, there you are, Draco."

Malfoy smiled and walked up to his father, his cold eyes widening with glee at the sight of his father. Harry followed, a little intimidated. The man seemed to radiate a command for respect and authority in his figure.

"Hello, father," said Malfoy slightly happily. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter. I met him when I was getting fitted for my school robes."

Malfoy's father looked at Harry, scrutinizing him a little, before taking a glance at the scar, which Harry revealed with a small flop of his long bangs. He then smiled.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr Potter," said the man respectfully. He offered his hand, his smile never wavering. "I am Lucius Malfoy, young Draco's father."

"The pleasure is all mine, sir," said Harry with equal respect in his voice, taking Lucius Malfoy's hand and shaking it. He also smiled, feeling less intimidated now.

Mr Malfoy lowered his hand, looking back over at Draco. "You said you met him at Madam Malkin's? Who was he with, Draco?"

"He was with a man named Rubeus, from what Potter told me," replied Draco obediently. "But the man wasn't there at the time. We're not sure where he is. He didn't come back afterwards, so he's probably around Diagon Alley somewhere."

"Rubeus, you say? Do you mean Rubeus Hagrid?" asked Mr Malfoy with a bit of a scoff in his voice.

"Yeah, I suppose that's him," said Draco. "I'm not too sure, myself."

"It was Hagrid," confirmed Harry, a little dejectedly. He had recognized the scoff in Mr Malfoy's voice; his uncle had used it all too much in Harry's lifetime.

"Tell me, Mr Potter, why is it that Hagrid was the one to lead you around to collect your school possessions?" asked Mr Malfoy. "Why was it not someone else, someone, ah, more competent?"

Harry was a little shaken at the words, but did not speak his uncertainties. He was, after all, in the presence of a man who apparently had high authority in the wizarding world. He did not want to make a bad impression, and he had only known Rubeus Hagrid for a little bit of time anyway; who was he to say Hagrid was a truly good man?

"He said that Dumbledore sent him," said Harry. Mr Malfoy's eyebrows rose a little at the mention of Dumbledore's name, but he otherwise said nothing. "I'm assuming Dumbledore knew about my predicament of the time, from what was written on top of the letter."

"Predicament?" said Mr Malfoy, a little suspiciously.

"Sir, I was left almost for dead when I was abandoned by whoever left me on the doorstep of my Muggle relatives, the Dursleys," said Harry slightly angrily; he was positively shaking. "They treated me like trash. They made me do all of the manual labor, they gave me scraps as meals, and while my cousin, _Dudley_, got two decent-sized bedrooms, they gave me the cupboard under the stairs."

Mr Malfoy's eyes were narrowing angrily from beneath his long blond hair. Above all things, he did not approve of child abuse or neglect. House elves were different, but children should not have to go through such things. He immediately vowed retribution against those filthy Muggles.

"When the first letter from Hogwarts came, they destroyed it," Harry continued, noticing that Mr Malfoy was not going to interrupt. "They destroyed the ones that followed as well. I think they doubled every time they were sent. Eventually, the house was flooded with so many letters that they decided to carry us halfway across the country to an isolated shack near the coastline. It was Rubeus Hagrid who found me and gave me the letter at last. I don't know what happened to the Dursleys, but I hope they're still stranded out there. I'll never go back to Privet Drive. Never," he spat the final word.

Mr Malfoy did not look pleased. He was staring at Harry with a lot more respect than he had shown before. It was unbelievable to him.

_What was that old fool thinking? He left young Potter in the household of monstrosities!_ Mr Malfoy was positively fuming inside his head._ Did I not warn people that Muggles are horrible beings? Did I not warn Dumbledore himself that something like this would happen, if a wizarding child was left with a misunderstanding Muggle? And of course, he did not listen to me. Of course, Mr Potter is half alive, and the only wizard he has met, besides Draco and I, is that half-breed oaf, Hagrid._

As one of the twelve council members, Mr Malfoy was going to make sure that Dumbledore suffered the consequences. He did have a lot to thank Harry Potter for, after all. He may as well start repaying his debt now; without young Mr Potter, the Dark Lord would still be active and torturing him and the rest of the followers he had. _Well, my dear sister-in-law would deserve it,_ he thought snidely. _But now that I think of it, I must look into the case of that other prisoner as well ... Yes... It is high time that Narcissa's cousin is freed from custody for the murders he did not commit..._

"Mr Potter," he said suddenly, causing Harry to look up and immediately look with respect; he knew how much authority Mr Malfoy had. "I will be looking into this case personally." He paused, stroking his chin idly. "Mr Potter, did you say that you were left on the doorstep of the Muggles?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "It was the same night I- er, the same night my parents died."

"I see ..." said Mr Malfoy, a little coldly now. "I am guessing that he did not have your consent, given that you were a year old, but you were not old enough to give it ... Hmm, I wonder ..."

He looked up the street, towards a dark alley off from Gringotts, but turned away at once.

"Mr Potter, did Mr Rubeus Hagrid explain why he was the one to bring you to Diagon Alley, and not a properly trained wizard?" he asked when he turned back to Harry.

"I- no, sir, he did not," said Harry, looking a little suspicious now, but not at Mr Malfoy. "As I said, Dumbledore sent him, and that's all I know about it."

"Did he undergo any other business while you were with him?" asked Mr Malfoy, his voice full of coldness now. He looked towards Gringotts this time. "Did he do anything that did not have to do with obtaining your items for Hogwarts?"

Harry followed Mr Malfoy's gaze, looking right over at the marble white building. His eyes narrowed a bit as he stared.

"Yes," he said after a while, "now that you mention it. He took a small package out of vault seven hundred thirteen. He said it was Hogwarts business, and very secret."

_Yes, Dumbledore did always clutch his secrets to his chest,_ thought Mr Malfoy to himself.

"Very well," he said, offering a look to Harry that Harry did not often see. It seemed to be a mixed look of pride and regret. Vernon Dursley had certainly never looked at Harry with either such looks in Harry's ten years at Privet Drive. "I will be looking into the matter with the Dursleys. Until then, I have another matter to deal with – two, actually. One is the household you will be staying at for the rest of the summer, and whom with; I am sure you do not want to go back to the Muggles" – Harry nodded vigorously, his features darkening with disgust at their mention – "and you should not have had to in the first place, but we cannot change the past. The other is what I will do about Albus Dumbledore."

"Sir?" asked Harry, a little curiously.

"Surely you do not think I will let Dumbledore get away with leaving you to mistreatment for almost a decade, do you, Mr Potter?"

"But-but are you saying it was him who left me there, Mr Malfoy?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Mr Potter, I am," said Mr Malfoy. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has always been a man who thinks what he is doing is for a greater good, even back in the days when the Dark Lord was taking over, but the means he uses to achieve an ends are not always respectable. I believe he was trying to force you into living a rotten life, in order for you to see him as a grandfatherly figure you could turn to in your time of need."

"He wanted me to go to him, for comfort from what he did to me?" Harry shouted.

"Yes, I am sure that this was what he was aiming to achieve," was the cold reply. "I am not sure why he would need you to go to him, but there is more than likely a reason, no doubt a reason that refers all to well to the _greater good_."

Harry was nearly heartbroken at these words. Hagrid had described Dumbledore as an incredible person, one who could be trusted beyond a doubt, one who had helped many in times of need. _I bet Hagrid is one of his trusted lackeys, and one of the ones who made me go to the Dursleys in the first place,_ Harry thought angrily. _As if I could trust Hagrid now._

"I'm betting that Dumbledore would have sent me back to the Dursleys during the summer breaks from Hogwarts," muttered Harry to himself, not bothering to keep his thoughts inside his head now. "I bet he would have left me there in summer so I'd go willingly to him come new term."

"There is no doubt in my mind that this was his intention," said Mr Malfoy, who had heard the mutterings.

Draco Malfoy was staring at the two, shock covering his usually expressionless face. He had been taught growing up that it was ideal to stay away from Albus Dumbledore, and Harry had just told him about his half-life with the Muggles, but he had not know that it was Dumbledore himself who had made Harry live the life of a house elf. _No, _Draco corrected himself. _I think the house elves have the better deal. Even ours aren't treated that badly._

"Mr Potter, I will look into the issue of giving you into a wizarding family's custody immediately," said Mr Malfoy. "However, I must first find someone who will take you into custody. This will require a few weeks, but if all goes well, I think I know just the person."

He smiled at Harry. It was a genuine smile this time.

"Come, Mr Potter. Let me treat you to lunch before you obtain the rest of your school possessions."

As they were walking down Diagon Alley, Mr Malfoy chuckled to himself. Looking down at Harry and Draco, he added, "As for your uncle, he's in for quite the surprise in a few days from now." Chuckling at Harry's expression of confusion, he turned his eyes back to the alley ahead of him and continued walking along his way.

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Lucius Malfoy walked along the corridors of Azkaban, looking at the different people he passed by along the way who had been thrown in because of their services to Lord Voldemort. _I'm glad I abandoned that pseudo-lord,_ he thought to himself. He recognized Antonin Dolohov, who glared at him with bared teeth through his greasy hair, and Algernon Rookwood, who merely nodded at him indifferently without looking up. As he came up to the room he had been looking for, another prisoner caught his eye. He smiled ruefully, looking down upon the woman he hated so much.

"Hello, Bellatrix," he said, looking at her with a certain gleam in his eye.

The long black haired woman before him looked up, and Bellatrix Lestrange's pale, sullen face was revealed. She had more than likely been beautiful in one lifetime, but after ten years in Azkaban, that beauty was long gone. She looked utterly mad, much like her former master.

"Lucius Malfoy," drawled Bellatrix, looking at him as though he were filth beneath her dirtied robes. "How ... invigorating to see you here, where you belong anyway."

"I daresay I do not belong here, Bellatrix," said Mr Malfoy evenly, clutching his staff tightly as he spoke. It would not do to kill a prisoner, even if he loathed her as much as he did, while in the prison itself. Not after all he had done to escape prison. "I did repent for my services, and survivals, with the Dark Lord."

"Oh, did you?" she screeched, snarling at Mr Malfoy but unable to move towards him due to the lengths of chains holding her arms and legs to the wall behind her. They held her bound quite well. "Do not bother trying to hide from the truth, Malfoy. You know what you did. You should be in here with us, awaiting the Dark Lord's return."

"Sorry, dear sister-in-law," said Mr Malfoy. "I do not intend to waste away in here for things I did under the Imperius Curse, and I do not intend to wait for him to, ah, return when I know he is gone."

"He will be back, Malfoy," she snarled, lunging forward against the chains as Mr Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her in amusement. She thrashed against the chains, adding to her insanity, to no avail. "The Dark Lord will return, and he will kill you for your betrayal. He'll kill you, your wife, and your filthy son. He will retrieve all of us who wasted away in Azkaban for him, and we will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams, filthy blood traitor!"

Mr Malfoy merely sneered, pulling his wand from his staff. He pointed it at Bellatrix, who was silenced immediately. Smiling, he put it back into its place in his staff.

"I am a Malfoy, Bellatrix," he said with an air of superiority, as she glared at him, unable to speak. "I do not need the praise of a pseudo-lord. Now, I must be off. I do hope you enjoy your life-long stay here."

Bellatrix made the silent equivalent of a curse word and turned away, limping against her chains. Mr Malfoy merely smirked and walked away, moving towards the true reason why he had come. Walking up a set of stairs at the end of the hallway, he came up to the highest level room for security. There was only one person being held in this room. Only one captive being held prisoner to Azkaban's worst.

_He'll be of much help to me._

Mr Malfoy walked up to the security door, tapped the handle with his staff, and turned the handle down to push open the door.

_He'll be the ideal guardian for Mr Potter, not to mention the one who was meant to be guardian to Mr Potter in the first place._

Mr Malfoy walked into the room. It was dark, lit by only two torches on opposite sides of the room, casting it into shadow. In the middle of the room was a large cell, holding a long haired man chained to its wall. Two Dementors flanked it, but Mr Malfoy used all of his willpower, as well as a silent Patronus, to keep their affects at bay. Aside from the cell, there was a table with two chairs. One of the chairs had chains on its arms and legs, and Mr Malfoy knew that those chains were charmed to hold down the prisoners who sat on them.

_He won't be here for much longer._

He walked up to the cell's bars, dismissing the Dementors as he did with a wave of his staff.

The long haired man lying chained next to the wall seemed to notice the lack of cold misery in the room now, for he stirred in his sleep. Making stiff noises, he stood up, the chains hanging from his wrists and ankles. His long black hair hung off of his head, ending at his upper arms and back while framing his face. He turned around, and Mr Malfoy saw the sunken eyes that looked as though they had given up on all hope of freedom. The dark, sunken eyes widened at the person before them, as though in shock. Mr Malfoy smiled at the man.

"Hello, Sirius," he said warmly. "I have come to set you free."

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The winds were blowing fiercely. It had been a long time since it had been this windy, and considering that it was mid-summer, it was a surprise to everyone. Yet here it was, in early August, with blowing winds so fierce that it nearly blew off trees and fences in the area. The Muggles were not pleased with Privet Drive right now, especially not Vernon Dursley and his family.

Their nephew, Harry Potter, the one who they would not name out loud when he wasn't around for fear of contamination, had disappeared with a rather large man a week or so ago. The man, who Vernon thought was named Robert Hagrid or something, had taken Harry with him for his school supplies, and they had not seen the boy since then. It made Vernon Dursley very angry. The boy's cooking was much better than Petunia's had ever been, and the chores were all done on time and to the hour. Life was much easier with the boy living with them, whether they liked him or not. And they didn't like him, either – they hated him.

It was rather confusing. Vernon knew that they'd jump at the opportunity to kick the little Potter boy out of the house, but they would also struggle to keep him, for he was their servant of sorts. To think that, at the age of four, he had asked for Dudley's second bedroom. It was pathetic, really.

Vernon walked into the kitchen, clutching a rolled up newspaper in his large hand, and sat down. Petunia was making omelets for breakfast. Vernon happened to like this particular choice of eating, but he also knew that it would more than likely taste like saran wrap when made by Petunia. Still, she was the only source of home-cooked food they had, and Vernon was hardly going to take up cooking. He had a busy life with his work for Grunnings, a company that made drills, and he was only home in the mornings and evenings. He didn't have time to take on the job of a house-sitter on top of that.

Irritably, he sat down and awaited his omelet. Dudley came down soon after, wobbling into the room as usual. He looked as though he had eaten five minutes ago, but Vernon dismissed the thought; he refused to think of Dudley in any sort of bad way. He was well aware that years of having to consort with the likes of Harry had made Dudley the way he was today, and Vernon was proud of Dudley for standing up for himself for so long. Now that Harry was gone, maybe Dudley could shine more radiance on the family again. The thought made Vernon happier than he had been for a couple of days now.

When Vernon had waited nearly fifteen minutes for his omelet, and had lost a significant amount of patience from the holdup, he decided to intervene.

"Petunia, what's the holdup? I have to get going soon, and I need to eat!"

"Hold on, will you?" she snapped back.

This did not bode well with Vernon, who was about to throw a comment back at her in argument to her attitude, but he stopped himself quite suddenly. Was something happening to Petunia? Something he had not foreseen?

_Ughh, please don't tell me it's __**that**,_ he thought unhappily. _I don't have the time and energy to deal with that womanhood problem. Not now and hopefully not ever._

He waited impatiently for ten more minutes before Petunia walked into the room carrying two plates. On both were servings of omelets with strips of bacon. She set them both down in front of Dudley and Vernon quite forcefully and walked back into the kitchen.

_Mental that one,_ Vernon thought to himself with a small snort.

Finishing his meal, he stood up and walked over to the door, briefcase in hand. He adorned his hat and walked out the door. Throwing his briefcase into the car, he got in, backed out of the driveway, and went on his way to work.

Along the way, he noticed that a jet-black owl was following his car. After seeing all of the owls that had plagued his house the week before with those damned letters, he did not let it bother him much. However, when he arrived at the building for Grunnings a half hour later, the owl came to a rest in a tree near the car, looking at him oddly. Grunting about the uselessness of birds, he walked into his office.

He had been there three minutes when his manager walked into the room.

"Mr Vernon Dursley," he said in a voice that rang with authority. Vernon looked up from his coffee and nodded to him, taking another sip. The manager continued. "You are fired."

The coffee left Vernon's mouth in an angry burst. He threw himself to his feet, staring aghast at the man before him. He clutched the mug of coffee so tightly that it exploded in his hand, but he hardly noticed.

"What do you mean, fired?" he roared. "Under what causes, pray tell?"

"The higher authorities of Grunnings have decided that you have not been working to your promised standings," said the manager dismissively, still in his tone of authority. "They have terminated your membership of Grunnings henceforth."

Vernon's eyes were blood red with rage now.

"How dare they do this?" he snarled. "I have worked for this company for almost fifteen years! They cannot do this to me without giving me a proper reason! I'll-"

"Mr Dursley, cease at once!" snapped the manager. "You can take this maturely and leave with your belongings at once, or you can be charged for loitering. It is your choice."

Vernon took one last look at the man, whose eyes had oddly turned hazel, and then he stormed out of the room without a second glance. He roared in displeasure as he stormed out of the building. As he marched towards his car, he noticed that the jet-black owl was still sitting in the tree, staring at him.

"WHAT?" he screamed at it, not drawing a single move from the owl except a slight turn of the head. "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME? STOP STARING AT ME RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL THROW A ROCK AT YOU!"

The owl continued staring at him as though unfazed by his screeches. He disdainfully remembered that owls could not understand humans. Snapping with anger, he picked up a rock and chucked it, as hard as he could, at the owl.

What followed had to be the most bizarre event that Vernon had ever witnessed. The rock was inches from the spot he had thrown it at when it stopped, unnaturally, in midair, right in front of the owl.

Only there was no longer an owl sitting there and staring at Vernon. It was now a man.

The man looked as though he lived paycheck to paycheck. He had shoulder-length black hair that was flecked with bits of what looked like splinters of wood, and dark, cold eyes. He was sitting on the branch, staring at Vernon, with a long black cloak of some kind hanging from his shoulders. He had a long wand out, pointed directly at the rock, which was still floating in midair. He flicked it a bit, and it flew back the way it came, knocking Vernon in the stomach. Vernon immediately doubled over in pain.

The man stood up in the tree, keeping his wand pointed in Vernon's direction. He waved it a bit around Vernon as well, sending different jets of clear light from it.

"W-What are you doing?" stuttered Vernon.

The man laughed. "I am making sure we are not overheard. We are now entrapped by a barrier that none can enter into... or out of."

He leapt from the tree, coming into a standing position directly in front of Vernon.

"So you're the Muggle uncle of Harry Potter," he rasped, his voice quite scratchy and vulgar. He looked as though he had not eaten or bathed in years, yet he seemed so humane. "You're the one who brutalized our hero."

"Excuse me?" snarled Vernon, who was still winded by the hit with the rebounding rock.

"You heard me, Muggle!" snapped the black-haired man. "You tortured Potter, making him live the life of a slave. Am I right?"

"I have no idea what you're ta-"

"Don't try to lie, Muggle. I can see the truth in your pathetic mind. I can see your thoughts on the boy as we speak. You're even wishing you could still have him as your personal cook and house cleaner right at this moment. It's so truly, utterly pathetic of you, Muggle, and yet so typical, to wish such a thing of an eleven year old boy, and a relative at that."

"I do not believe it is in your rights to tell me how to raise my nephew," Vernon snarled, clenching his hand into a fist. "And furthermore, you do not wish to anger me further."

"Oh, really?" the man sneered, his face less humane now. "You do know that with the barrier keeping us hidden from prying Muggle eyes that may stray towards us, I could kill you right now without suspicion, don't you?"

"You wouldn't dare," said Vernon venomously.

"Try me," said the man, raising his wand higher.

"Don't bother with that thing, I ain't frightened of it," said Vernon loudly, taking a step forward towards the man, who smiled a little while raising his wand to level with Vernon's face. "I won't be intimidated by a man who has to hide behind a freak wand to solve his problems. If you can't take it like a man, you can't take it at all." He puffed out his chest arrogantly.

"You fool," sneered the man before him. "Is this a game to you? You have lost your little nephew, and now all you can do is defend your precious Muggle honor? Ha! You really are as unintelligent as you look, Muggle."

Before Vernon could retaliate, the man had disappeared with a _pop._ He reappeared in the tree, and waved his wand again. The barriers around Vernon vanished.

"I hope you don't expect to see your nephew again, Dursley," he said, and Vernon stared back, shocked that the man knew his name. "He's with us now. One day he'll be back, and he'll kill you for what you did to him. Until then, I bid thee farewell, stupid Muggle!"

He threw something to the ground, and it exploded, throwing a cloud of smoke everywhere. As the smoke cleared, Vernon noticed that the man had vanished.

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Sirius Black did not know what to think. For ten years, his life had been a mix of misery and despair, pain and burden, as the Dementors flanked his cell around the clock. He was a mere ghost of what he once was, and therefore, the visit of Lucius Malfoy, his cousin-in-law, greatly surprised him.

"W-What are you d-doing here, L-Lucius?" asked Black with a very raspy voice, as though he had not used it since before his imprisonment. It was not unkind.

Lucius Malfoy looked across the table at Black, considering him. He did not know himself why he was going at such odds to help Harry Potter. He only knew that if he did not get Sirius Black out of prison, Lucius would have to raise the boy himself, and he did not have the skills to raise a second child; Draco was challenge enough. He decided that it was because he could relate to young Harry. After all, Imperiused or not, he had suffered under Lord Voldemort's rule, and he had experienced torture. The boy had grown up knowing nothing but torture. Mr Malfoy looked at Harry and saw a younger Lucius in there. That was why he was willing to risk a lot in saving Harry from the Muggles. As a matter of fact, he already had. Ever since they had met, Harry had been living at Malfoy Manor, which was Unplottable, meaning the Ministry and especially Dumbledore could not find him there.

_Dumbledore,_ he thought with an inward sneer. The man had seen to Harry's suffering. He had, indirectly, seen to it that Harry lead a life of misery and injustice. He no doubt expected Harry to go to Hogwarts in September to turn to him to console him.

_There is no damn way in the sacred name of Morgana that I will let that happen._

"Sirius," he said, and his voice was mixed with sorrow for Black's position and authority for the topic at hand, "I'm here to set you free. I am aware that you did not commit the crimes you were convicted of, and I am aware that you did not get as much as a trial when you were unceremoniously thrown into Azkaban. I am here to rectify all of this. I am going to get you a trial, and we are going to get you out of here. Then we are going to get the man who did this to you thrown into Azkaban himself. I believe it was Bartemius Crouch Senior? I heard his son got sent here and died here. How pitiful his father will share the same fate."

Sirius Black looked at Mr Malfoy, all of his surprise evident. The man was risking everything, as far as Black was concerned. How could he be so calm that he could overturn a sentence that had been carried out almost ten years ago?

"You're really going to help me, Lucius?" he gasped, looking shocked. The rasp in his voice was leaving a little. "I thought you hated my kind. Aren't you with Voldemort?"

Mr Malfoy stiffened, and he looked down so that Black would not see the anger in his eyes. Noticing his mistake, Black backtracked. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, Mr Black, it is not your fault. Suffice it to say that I am certainly not with He Who Must Not Be Named," said Mr Malfoy. "He placed me under the Imperius Curse and used me for my authority in the wizarding world. I may hold a few of his beliefs – and I do mean a few – but I do not support his take on the world."

"You speak as though he were still in this world," said Black dully. "He's dead. He got killed trying to go after the Potters. I went after Pettigrew a day later; he as good as confirmed it." He looked mutinous at the mention of his old friend, Peter Pettigrew. He looked down at his shackled hands, wondering if escaping was really worth it. James Potter was dead, Peter Pettigrew was a traitor, and Remus Lupin would never want anything to do with him now that he was a supposed mass murderer. Unless...

"Lucius, are you breaking me out of Azkaban because of Harry?"

Mr Malfoy froze. So Black knew. Well, that was one task of explanation out of the way now, so perhaps it was for the better. And now that this was in the open, Mr Malfoy could get right down to business.

"Yes, Sirius, I am helping you out of Azkaban because of young Mr Potter," said Mr Malfoy briskly, though it sounded more like desperation. "He needs someone to care for him, and you are his godfather. Plus, Draco would have a friend to be with him. Lastly, he would grow up away from Dumbledore's prying hands. It is the perfect deal. You, of course, will be protected should you desire to be."

Black snorted.

"I'd like nothing more than to take Dumbledore's already broken nose and break it further for what he condemned me to," he barked. "I really would. All the same, we must help Harry. I know that he went to Muggles, the relatives from his mother's side. If they so much as touched him..."

"They did worse than that, Sirius," said Mr Malfoy. "Mr Potter lived like a slave under their care. They were assigned by Dumbledore to be his legal guardians, but I fear that the Dark Lord himself could not do so much lasting damage to the boy."

He sighed; here came the actual explanation.

"I suppose the reason I wanted to help young Harry was because I saw myself in him." Sirius looked up, surprised at this. "Just like I had during the days of the Dark Lord, he has lived the life of a dog – forgive the pun to your Animagus form – from day one since he started there in the Muggle world. Since he has been able to reach the top of the stove, he had been serving their meals. Because his cousin is so vastly unintelligent, he was forced to fail and do horrible in all of his courses in Muggle school. And because he is more or less skin and bones, he is very unhealthy right now."

Black looked mutinous again.

"They're going to suffer for this," he spat.

"And we will see to it that the Muggles suffer," Mr Malfoy agreed, patting his staff. "However, we cannot kill them now. Not only will it get us both thrown in here, but it will arouse Dumbledore's suspicions, and we do not need that right now, especially when Harry gets to Hogwarts and is around the man around the clock."

"Understandable," said Sirius, getting to his feet. "But seriously, I'd love to get out of here as soon as possible. How long will I have to wait?"

"Hopefully no time at all," Mr Malfoy replied. Sirius looked at him, curiosity clouding his vision. "You see, I took the liberty of going to my good friend, Mr Fudge, myself. He's going to see to it that you get a fair trial, or he's going to find himself in the world of unemployment."

"Never again will I question your sneakiness," muttered Sirius under his breath in a joking matter, and Mr Malfoy smirked.

"You will only be here for two more days, at most," said Mr Malfoy. "I will see to it that Dementors are not placed in here, since you are now awaiting trial. As for the fool who threw you into Azkaban, I am going to see to him tomorrow. He will be in Azkaban, if I don't kill him myself, by the end of the week."

"It was good to see you again, cousin," said Sirius, holding out a shackled hand, and Mr Malfoy took it, grime forgotten. They shook briefly, locking eyes with one another. Cold grey looked at dull black.

"I will get you out of here, Sirius. Don't worry about that." Without another word, Mr Malfoy left the room, shutting the door behind him.

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"I have a godfather?!" asked Harry incredulously.

Harry had been at Malfoy Manor for well over a week now. He had enjoyed his time here immensely. He had no friends back in Surrey, and Malfoy was only too proud to be Harry's friend and connection to the wizarding world. Malfoy's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had welcomed Harry graciously, and had seen to it that he had everything he needed; ten years of being denied proper care had finally caught up with Harry not long ago. He had been weakened, and each breath he had taken seemed to catch in his throat. If it weren't for the Malfoys, he would have wished death upon himself.

A house elf, ironically, had nursed him into a better health. Dobby the house elf had taken an interest in him, and had seen to it that he got better. He was on the way to recovery, but he had a long way to go. Fortunately, a long way with magic only incorporated three or four days at most.

At the moment, Mrs Malfoy was explaining to Harry what Mr Malfoy was trying to do, and who he was doing it for. Harry had not even known the existence of his godfather, much less the fact that he had been thrown into prison – Azkaban, he thought it was called – for crimes he didn't commit.

"Yes, you have a godfather, Harry," said Narcissa Malfoy softly; she had taken a liking to the boy who sat across from her. She almost couldn't believe that he wasn't a pureblood. "Your godfather's name is Sirius Black, and he was good friends with your parents. In fact, himself and your father were inseparable, from what Lucius told me, throughout their time at Hogwarts and afterwards."

She paused for a moment, as though not wanting to speak any further. Harry noticed at once; his senses had picked up after he had begun healing.

"There's more to it, isn't there?" asked Harry quietly. "There's more to what happened between them, isn't there, Mrs Malfoy?"

"Please, Harry, call me Narcissa," she said in equally quiet tones. "And yes, there is more, but I'm not sure if you're ready to hear it. It is a very dark thing that happened to Sirius..."

"I'm willing to hear it," Harry pleaded, looking stricken. "Please, Narcissa, please tell me."

Narcissa saw the pleading look in his eyes and knew he truly wanted to know the story. She just wasn't sure if she was the right person to tell him. She hadn't been close with her cousin, Sirius Black, at the time when he had been friends with James Potter, and she had not been close with him at all before or after, either. Now, however, she was willing to put their differences aside, if Sirius was as well. _No,_ she thought, _it can't be me to tell him. I'm just not the right person. I will set things right when Sirius is freed, but until then, I do not have the right to tell his story to his godson. It is his story to tell._

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't tell you," said Narcissa sadly. She noticed Harry's disappointment, and explained further. "It's just not my story to tell. When Sirius is freed, he will tell you this story, but until then, you will have to wait."

Harry nodded. "All right, I understand." He looked a little happier now.

Narcissa smiled and dismissed the two boys, letting them have their fun. With that done, she walked out of the main family room and into the kitchens. She really, really needed something to drink; her throat had dried up when she had seen Harry's look of somber disappointment.

She entered the kitchens only to see her husband standing there waiting for her.

"Lucius!" she said in a surprised tone. "I thought you were at Azkaban to talk to Sirius."

"That matter has already been dealt with," replied Lucius Malfoy with a grim smile, leaning a bit on his staff. "He will be standing trial this Thursday, and hopefully freed come the weekend. It'll be good to see him free."

"Yes, it certainly will," said Narcissa, calling over a house elf to bring her a Firewhisky. She sat down at one of the tables, and Lucius moved towards her, choosing to continue standing. "Lucius, why are we doing this for Sirius? We never liked him back in the old days, and we certainly didn't get along with him before then. He and I fought all the time when we were growing up. So why are we helping him, and why now? I'm not complaining," she added, noticing Lucius's stern look, "I'm just curious right now."

Lucius sighed, leaning down on his staff again; had it not been charmed to never break, it might have snapped clean in two with all the weight he was putting on it. He stood there, contemplating his answer.

"It's because of young Mr Potter, that much is certain," began Lucius, shaking his long hair out of his face. His grey eyes were narrowed, and his aristocratic posture seemed to have slipped a bit, though Narcissa hardly cared right now. "The moment I saw him in Diagon Alley, alongside our son, I knew something must have happened to him, perhaps a lot of the time in his life for all we know. Surely anyone who had seen him must have known. He had been out of the eyes of the wizarding world for almost ten years, since the night the Dark Lord was vanquished; how could the situation not be suspicious? Narcissa, the boy was a shadow of himself. He looked as though he had eaten two decent meals in his entire lifetime, maybe not even that! He was short, thin, and while he was wearing decent robes from Madam Malkin's, it didn't take much to see that he had most likely been wearing what looked like his cousin's hand-me-down rags for most of his life.."

He leaned further onto his staff, his frustration with the situation evident. Narcissa recoiled only slightly in her chair.

"He said that at midnight on the 31st, the day Draco and I first met him, a man named Rubeus came to retrieve him. There are not many men in this world named Rubeus, Narcissa. It had to have been that enormous gamekeeper, Hagrid. Harry admitted to this, and I revealed to him my thoughts on the matter: that the reason why he was to be introduced to the wizarding world by Hagrid was because of Albus Dumbledore."

"The Headmaster?" asked Narcissa skeptically. "Why would he want to do something like that?"

"Dumbledore is the reason why Harry Potter went to live with Muggles," said Lucius darkly. "I remember clearly. The Ministry seemed to be fine with it, but it went against the Potters' last will and testament. When I go to Gringotts next, I might check that. I do not think it was ever executed, which would certainly explain why the Ministry never intervened with the placing of Mr Potter's guardianship."

He pinched his nose for a moment, drawing in a breath.

"If I had known at the time what Dumbledore was up to, I might have stopped him myself. I certainly had the legal authority to do so. As it is, he knew that Sirius was not the Potters' Secret-Keeper, and he let Sirius get thrown in Azkaban anyway. It was no doubt to prevent Harry from going to him. I do not agree with this injustice, and now that I have seen Mr Potter for myself, I am going to see to it that he never goes back to those filthy Muggles."

He finally sat down, looking a little weary. Narcissa noticed this immediately and, without hesitating, called over a house elf to bring him a cup of tea. He smiled his thanks to her and took the cup, sipping it immediately.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the Muggles. It would be very easy to kill them off now, but it would be too suspicious, and I do not want to risk being thrown into Azkaban after my narrow escape from it a decade ago. So I had the Muggle uncle fired from that company he worked for, Grumblings or something."

Narcissa nearly spit out some of her Firewhisky as she burst out laughing.

"You got him _sacked?_ Lucius, that is brilliant," she exclaimed.

Lucius smirked. "Yes," he said, "and they wouldn't even know it was me, they only know it to be the decision of a high-ranked individual at the company. Put short, a Confounding Charm. I didn't want to risk the Imperius Curse, as nice as it would be to use it again, because of the illegality of the action."

"Understandable," remarked Narcissa. "But I sense that there is more to this than what you are telling me. Is it just because of Harry that you are helping Sirius?"

Lucius hesitated. This was the part of the conversation that he did not want to come to. He didn't want to explain to his wife that he saw the connection between himself and Harry, but he knew that he must.

"I suppose it was because I saw a little of myself in young Potter," said Lucius a little reluctantly. Narcissa's eyebrows rose a bit; Lucius noticed this and backtracked in his explanation. "What I mean is, when Harry came up to me in Diagon Alley with our son, he looked little more than a shadow of what he should have been. He was malnourished, he was weakened, and he had no confidence at all for himself. I could see all of this in his mind for myself. I didn't even need Legilimency to see it, Narcissa. It was all over the boy's face. He looked as though he had actually welcomed the idea of death before he met us. Whatever the Muggles put him through, it was torture to him. When I saw all of this, and please don't take this horribly, I saw myself when I was under the Dark Lord's reign. He treated his followers almost as badly as he treated his enemies, Narcissa. He treated us like common animals. When we failed, he tortured us, and when we succeeded, he offered no praise. Some of us wondered if what we were doing was truly the right way, but we could not say anything. I could not anyway, as I was under an Imperius Curse. It was not strong, but it was strong enough to force me to carry out his will. I had no control over what I did, Narcissa. I couldn't even say anything about it. He'd kill us if we even dreamed of leaving his service. You remember Regulus Black, I'm assuming? He was almost killed by the Dark Lord, but he managed to escape. He was the only one. A man named Mulciber was killed when he tried to back out, within a few days. I couldn't leave for fear of death."

He sighed a little, wishing he could stop there.

"The same can be said for Mr Potter, as far as I'm concerned. If he had tried to leave the Muggles without the wizard guard who was sent to get him, he would have been killed. He knew this, too. I saw so much of myself in him, and I knew then that I would not allow him to go through any more of it. Not like how I did," he finished.

Narcissa's eyes were filled with tears, but she did not speak. Lucius had long since stopped looking at her, choosing instead to cover his face with his hands. _I'm a Malfoy! I should not be reacting with this much emotion! I should not be reacting with __**any**__ emotion!_

"Lucius, we will help him," said Narcissa with a strained voice. "We'll help both of them. When we get Sirius out of prison, we'll give Harry to him to be raised by him. He can adopt Harry or something. That way, Harry will be something like a family to us."

Lucius looked up, his eyes red. He smiled at Narcissa.

"That's the plan," he said. "We're going to make Harry a part of the Black family, and in a way, the Malfoy family. And this time, no lord of any shape or form is going to interfere with our lives. This time, we do things our own way."

He stood up, picking up his staff from the table. Narcissa stood as well, staring at Lucius.

"I must go now to the Ministry," said Lucius. "I have a feeling that Dumbledore is going to find a way to interfere with all of this; knowing him, he has found out about what I am planning by now. Harry has, after all, not been at the place Dumbledore put him in for a week now. I'm going straight to Cornelius, and I'm going to see to it that the old man can't interfere. He's interfered enough with our lives."

With a brisk nod, he walked away, leaving Narcissa to stare in awe after him.

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**Author's Note:**

So, what do you think so far? Yes, as you can see, this will be a Manipulative Dumbledore story, but he won't be downright evil like he was in my other story. Actually, he won't have nearly as big a role anyway.

You're probably wondering about my previous story and the fact that I haven't updated it in a little while. For now, consider it on hold. I've run into a dead end with it, and I'm currently trying to figure a way out of it. Until I do, I'm putting my efforts into this story, so don't expect updates for ODAL. Sorry 'bout that.

Anyway, you know the deal, Read and Review! I appreciate feedback. I don't care what kind of feedback it is, I still appreciate it.


	2. Chapter 2: The Awaited Trial

Author's Note: The following will be typed in Italics: letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, spells, and flashbacks. There won't be much Parseltongue until later on in the story. There will be very few letters and flashbacks.

Disclaimer: Any characters or spells that aren't canonical or in the original series are mine; the rest are Rowling's. This fanfic author takes no credit for original work, only work that is completely made up on the spot. Readers will know it when they see it.

So, without further ado, let the second chapter begin!

**Chapter 2: The Awaited Trial**

It had been two weeks since Harry had found out that he was a wizard, and his time at Malfoy Manor had been incredible. He had immediately felt no regrets in choosing the Malfoys over Hagrid, whom he had not heard from since that day.

Not long after he and Narcissa had discussed what had happened with Sirius, or didn't discuss, the Malfoys took Harry to finish his shopping at Diagon Alley. He had received his wand, which was made of holly and had a phoenix core. It apparently shared the same core feather as the deceased Voldemort. After that, he had gone to get material for Potions, books for other classes, and anything else he needed. He knew that he could get a broomstick next year, since first years weren't allowed to play Quidditch. He wished they could; from what Draco Malfoy had told him and showed, the game was really fun. He favored the Chaser position above the others (Keeper, Beater and Seeker).

Sirius Black was now being held at the Ministry, who were confirming the fact that he was not guilty beyond a doubt. Lucius Malfoy was not happy about the amount of time it was taking for them to clear Sirius'a name. At first, the Minister did not like the idea of giving Sirius a trial, claiming that the crime he committed was so disgusting and severe that he did not deserve one. He even tried to interfere with the Wizengamot's decision. When Mr Malfoy had not so kindly reminded him that he could get the man fired if he wanted to, the Minister had been a lot more willing in granting Sirius a trial. It was scheduled for the twenty-second of August. The only part about it that Mr Malfoy didn't like was that Albus Dumbledore himself was going to be there, and Mr Malfoy had a funny feeling that the man was going to try something.

Harry had befriended one of the house elves of the Malfoy family. Dobby the house elf was a truly amazing creature; he was kind, he was generous, and most of all, he loved praising Harry as being the greatest wizard who ever lived, the only kind-hearted wizard towards house elves everywhere, and the savior of the world. Harry had not been able to stop him from saying these things, and he knew that it was not worth it to keep trying, so long as the elf didn't bow before him every time they met.

The Malfoys had told Harry about what would happen when Sirius came out of Azkaban. They told him that Sirius was going to become his legal and magical guardian, as he was supposed to have been in the first place. They told him that at this time, Harry would take on the name of the Blacks, and would legally be known as Harry Potter-Black. He could also be known as Harry Black if he wished. Harry decided on the Black name. He was not really a Potter any longer, since his family was dead, and Sirius would, in all essence, be his new father. He knew his parents would have understood; after all, they did make Sirius his honorary godfather before they died.

They also told Harry about their suspicions about his blood lineage. Narcissa had brought it up to Mr Malfoy, who had given it thought. They wondered if Harry was indeed a half-blood and not a pureblood. Harry had been told by Hagrid that he was a half-blood since his mother was a Muggle-born, but the Malfoys were unsure of this, as Harry looked as though he were a pureblood. He looked exactly like his father, save for a few minor differences, just like Mr Malfoy and Draco looked like each other. They decided that they would go to the goblins about this on a later date. If Harry was indeed a pureblood, the goblins would know; they did, after all, have copies of the family trees of every wizarding family in the world.

All in all, Harry had had a busy two weeks. That wasn't to say that he hadn't had fun, though. He and Draco, as well as a friend of Draco's known as Blaise Zabini, had played a lot of Quidditch in the afternoons. Draco had been playing it for fun for years, and so he had no difficulty teaching Harry all about being a Chaser. Draco himself favored the position of Seeker, while Zabini, who had told Harry that he did not really like his first name and would rather they use his surname, did not favor any position and merely played whatever was available.

It was now the sixteenth of August, and Harry, Draco, Zabini and Theodore Nott, another of Draco's friends, were sitting around one of the manor's many family rooms. They had played some rounds of Exploding Snap, which was like stacking muggle playing cards that exploded without warning, and were now bored of the game. Nott and Zabini were playing a round of wizard's chess, Draco was idly flicking his wand in different directions as he sat back against the couch, and Harry was curled up in a chair, reading one of his textbooks for Hogwarts.

'Seriously, Potter, how is it that you can spend so much time reading? You might be a Ravenclaw yet, mate,' chuckled Draco, who was watching Harry while he was flicking his wand.

'Never did have much to do when I was locked in the cupboard for days on end,' said Harry darkly, all the while not looking up from his textbook. 'So I learned to spend my time reading. Whenever they threw me in there, I always made sure I had brought a book with me hidden in my pocket; they never knew the difference. I was on a seventh grade level when I was six years old.'

'I still can't believe you were put through that kind of torture,' Nott commented, who did not look up either, but instead focused more on the chess board. He was losing his match against Zabini. Brushing his long wiry hair out of his eyes, he continued. 'I mean, don't the muggles have some sort of policing power? Don't they have people like Aurors?'

'Of course they do,' was Harry's reply, as he turned a page. 'That doesn't mean they're intelligent. For all I know, the house could have been warded against unwelcome people – that could include muggle policemen.'

'Makes sense, I guess,' agreed Nott, who was still focusing on his next move.

Draco listened to the exchange, but did not comment. Zabini and Nott knew about what Harry had gone through, but they did not know about the wizarding involvement that had been included in the process. They did not know about Dumbledore and Hagrid's part in it. Draco had been told to not tell his friends unless Harry did first, and Harry was not moving to do so, therefore Draco knew better than to bring it up. But then he remembered something.

'Wait, didn't you say that you never cared about academics, Potter?' he asked, flicking his wand around aimlessly as he spoke. 'That's what you told me at Madam Malkin's, anyway. You said something about having long since lost the desire to do well academically.'

'I know what I said,' said Harry, more than a little coolly. 'I don't care about academics, but I do enjoy reading. The only reason I didn't do well was because every time I did better than my cousin, who was a straight D average – that's the border between a pass and a fail in the Muggle schools – my uncle would get mad and lock me in the cupboard.'

Zabini was looking at Harry as though he had never seen anything like him before. Nott was staring at Harry through his wiry hair, looking revolted. Draco's eyes merely widened; from what Harry had told him when they had met, this happened a lot in his life.

'Listen, mates,' said Harry quietly a moment later, without looking up from his Potions textbook. 'It's not that I mean any offense, but I really don't want to talk about what happened at the Dursleys. There's too much to tell, for one, and for two, I still haven't coped with it myself. I can't cope with it with others just yet.'

'We understand, Potter,' said Zabini, while Draco and Nott nodded. 'We're just worried for you. No wizarding child that we know has ever gone through abuse.'

'Yeah, the only abused race we know of are house elves, and the house elves that work under the Malfoy rule aren't brutalized that badly,' Draco added, picking up his wand again.

'It'll get better now that you're going to live with your godfather, Harry,' said Nott, turning back to his game with Zabini.

Harry merely nodded, and the others went back to what they were doing. When Draco nearly set the next couch over on fire, he wisely decided to stop flicking his wand randomly, and instead picked up a textbook and began reading as well.

'Say, where are Vince and Greg to these days?' asked Nott suddenly. 'I haven't seen them in a couple of weeks.'

'I don't know,' replied Draco, 'they haven't sent back a reply yet. They always were slow...'

'Who are Vince and Greg?' asked Harry curiously, still not looking up.

'They're friends of ours who we know through Malfoy here,' said Zabini, smiling a bit. 'Their names are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Most people call them by their surnames.' He paused, choosing his words carefully. 'Crabbe and Goyle are sort of... off, in a sense. Neither of them is all that skilled academically or otherwise, and so we're constantly helping them get better. Nott here has been helping them especially, as much as he could do so without a wand. Hopefully they'll be all right during Hogwarts.'

'Yeah, I think they will be,' said Harry, who was looking forward to meeting yet more friends of Draco.

At that moment, the fireplace emitted with green flames, and Mr Malfoy's head appeared in it, finally getting Harry to look up from his textbook. Harry had now seen this act happen a couple of times, and thus, he was not overly shocked at it. He was still a little surprised, though.

'Hello, Father,' said Draco happily, getting up from the couch to stand by the fireplace. 'What can we do for you?'

'Ah, Draco,' said Mr Malfoy, and his eyes widened a little. 'It's good to see you, son. I am looking for Mr Potter. Is he with you right now?'

'I'm right here, Mr Malfoy,' piped up Harry from his spot on the couch, and Mr Malfoy's head turned in the fireplace to face him. Harry marked the spot in his textbook for later reading and put it aside. 'What is it that you need, sir?'

'It's Sirius,' he said, and Harry leapt up from the couch at once. 'His trial has been moved up by a few days. It's on the eighteenth now.'

'Really?' asked Harry happily, and Mr Malfoy nodded. 'That's fantastic news! Is it going to be a full trial, or is it just going to be the Minister and you?'

'No, it will be a full trial,' said Mr Malfoy a bit unhappily, but he fought that down and smiled at Harry. 'The Wizengamot wants to make absolute sure that Sirius is innocent, so they're following the procedures they cast aside ten years ago.'

Harry came to stand beside Draco, looking down at Mr Malfoy's head while he spoke.

'So Sirius is really going to be free?' he asked with hope in his voice.

'Yes, Harry, Sirius is really going to be free,' said Mr Malfoy, smiling up at the young man in front of him. 'Oh, by the way, that reminds me. You have an appointment tomorrow.' Harry's eyes snapped back to him, widening a little. 'No, no,' said Mr Malfoy, laughing at his expression, 'nothing like that. It's with Gringotts; they're far safer than the Ministry with this sort of appointment. We're to be there with you at noon the day after Sirius' trial.'

"What's it about?" asked Harry, a little disconcerted.

'We're going to test your blood lineage, because of our suspicions that we confided with you,' said Mr Malfoy, flicking his hair out of his face as he spoke, never taking his eyes off of Harry. 'At Gringotts, they have a special set of rooms that allow a person to view their family trees, and to see their true lineage in their family. After both trees are displayed, it is calculated immediately.'

'Do I have to do anything in particular to do this?' asked Harry. Mr Malfoy looked up at him again; his eyebrows rose slightly, inviting Harry to elaborate on the question. 'What I mean is, is there a way that I have to prove I'm actually Harry Potter, and not an imposter? They haven't seen me before except the one time I was there two weeks ago.'

'Oh, that,' Mr Malfoy said, his eyebrows descending again. 'No, no, it isn't anything like that. You do have to provide a blood sample to get past the security door to the vault – even some Gringotts goblins can't get in that room – but it isn't much, just three drops and then your finger is healed automatically by the wards of the vault.'

'Oh, okay,' said Harry. Mr Malfoy smiled at him.

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'Harry, we're going to the Ministry today,' said Narcissa Malfoy, looking up from her spot at the long table in the dining room. She put down her cup of tea and added, 'We're leaving at around four this afternoon, so be ready with some good robes on, okay?'

'All right, Narcissa,' called out Harry from the family room.

It was now the seventeenth of August. The trial was tomorrow, and he was going to meet Sirius for the first time in ten years today. After all that was over, they were going to Gringotts for their appointment. They had to find out Harry's true lineage, to quell their concerns over what he really was. They would not abandon him even if it turned out that he was a half-blood, not after all they had done for him in the last few weeks, but they hoped that he was a pureblood. The Malfoys did not hold the Dark Lord's beliefs on non-purebloods, but they still preferred the company of purely magical people.

Harry, Draco, Zabini and Nott were enjoying themselves immensely all throughout. The four had become great friends and all planned on entering the same house at Hogwarts. Draco, Zabini and Nott were sure that they were going to get into Slytherin; therefore, Harry decided that he'd just go into Slytherin with them. He didn't really care either way, but he wanted to be with his new friends. He'd never do well in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and for what Draco said about Hufflepuff – although he didn't care about Draco's opinion on it – he'd want to stay away from the house of Hufflepuff.

He had not heard anything from the Dursleys, or about them. For some strange reason, he did not think that he would not see them again. A gut feeling seemed to tell him that he would have to confront them again, and he hoped it was wrong. He knew he'd see them at the adoption process, but he hoped it wouldn't cause some sort of scene. He knew it would happen anyway, but it didn't hurt to hope; after all, when he had stayed at the Dursleys, hope was all he had ever had.

All in all, it was a worrisome three hours for Harry, and when Harry and Mr Malfoy finally Flooed over to the Ministry to meet Sirius, Harry was a nervous wreck. The last time he had seen Sirius was when he was an infant, and he was much too young then to remember him. Now, it was like he was meeting a complete stranger – that is, a stranger who had been appointed his godfather by his parents, a stranger who was about to receive his support, and a stranger who was about to become his father by adoption. While he was indeed looking forward to it, he was also nervous as could be.

Upon arriving, they walked to the other side of the Atrium, where a short, portly man with a green bowler hat and long, official looking robes were waiting for them. The man took one look at Harry and walked right up to him excitedly, sticking out his hand.

'Excellent to meet you, Mr Potter,' said the man happily, wringing Harry's hand, who shook back weakly. 'I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.' Harry bowed his head in respect, knowing that this man held the most authority in all of Britain.

Mr Malfoy chuckled as the portly Minister wrung Harry's hand through shaking it. The man loved celebrities, and therefore Mr Malfoy knew that Fudge would have been only too pleased to meet Harry. He had said so at least a hundred times over the years.

Yet he seemed to have forgotten that Harry was only eleven years old.

'Minister, I do believe that Mr Potter will need his arm back for this afternoon,' said Mr Malfoy, with a hint of amusement in his voice, and Fudge, a little embarrassed, let go of Harry's arm, which, for the moment, hung limp at his side.

'Yes, well, it is indeed an honor to meet you,' said Fudge, replacing his bowler hat back onto his head and turning around. 'Mr Black is waiting for you in my office. Shall we go?'

The three walked together towards his office. It was one floor below, so they needed to take the elevator, which was blocked by a gate and, somehow, was able to move sideways. One floor later, Cornelius Fudge walked Harry and Mr Malfoy towards the door to his office, and tapped the doorknob with his wand, in which the door opened slowly.

'Security reasons,' said Fudge apologetically, taking off his hat and spinning it around in his hand. 'Please, go on in.'

Harry and Mr Malfoy both entered, walking towards the desk. The room was magnificent. It was nice and big, with bookcases lining two of the four walls from ceiling to floor. There was a door in the third wall, and Harry assumed that Sirius was in the room behind it. In the middle of the room was a large sofa that could sit four people, and across from it was a smaller sofa that could sit maybe two people. By the window opposite from the entrance was Fudge's desk, with a high-backed chair behind it. Harry idly wondered how there was a window underground, but assumed it was magic.

'Mr Black is in the next room,' Fudge said, pointing to the second door that Harry had been looking at. 'Please, go on in. I must get back to work on setting things right with the Muggle Prime Minister.'

He gestured towards the door, and both Harry and Mr Malfoy nodded. They walked over to the door leading into the next room, turned the knob, and entered.

The room was almost exactly like the one they had just exited, only a little smaller. Instead of two couches being in the room, there was a large table with four chairs instead. Sitting on one of the chairs at the far end of the table was a tall, thin man with long black hair that fell back past his shoulders, almost to his elbows. He thankfully had it tied back. His robes were a little ragged, which Harry was grateful for since they had probably been disgusting upon leaving Azkaban, and his face was white and stretched almost like a mask over his face. His dark eyes, which had a little color in them, stared at his hands upon the table. When he heard the sound of the door closing, he looked up. His eyes seemed to shine upon seeing who it was.

'H-Harry,' Sirius Black rasped, emotion flooding his voice.

Harry no longer cared about dignity of stature or anything of the sort; he ran towards Sirius, who stood up, and jumped into a crushing hug, which Sirius returned without hesitation.

'It's good to see you, kiddo,' said Sirius, his voice raspy from lack of use. He rubbed Harry's back, who hugged tighter in return. Mr Malfoy watched with a bit of a smile in his otherwise expressionless face. He knew that Harry would have abandoned the dignity of his presence upon seeing Sirius, and as such, he hardly cared about that.

When they finally broke apart, Sirius looked Harry up and down.

'You look a little thin, but otherwise all right. Have the Malfoys been feeding you well?' he asked, smiling a little.

'Yeah, I think I've put on some weight since leaving the Muggles,' said Harry proudly but sarcastically, buffing his chest out. Sirius and Mr Malfoy chuckled. 'Narcissa seemed hell-bent on making sure I was more than eighty pounds after the third day, anyway.'

Sirius chuckled, but his eyes darkened at the indirect reminder of the Dursleys and how they had made Harry's life hell. _No matter, we'll get them eventually._

'Harry, how much did you weigh when you left the Dursleys?' he asked, a bit of a snarl with the last word.

Harry frowned, trying to recall.

'Umm... I dunno, fifty pounds? Something along those lines, anyway.'

Sirius' eyes flashed angrily, turning fully black for a moment, but they reverted back quickly without motion. Luckily for him, Harry had not noticed.

Sirius was about to ask another question about Harry's previous well-being when the door to the room flung open and Fudge walked in, clearly angry about something. Mr Malfoy looked a little concerned, but Fudge noticed this and dismissed his concern at once.

'The Muggle Prime Minister is being a fool, as usual,' he muttered. 'Won't accept any help aside from Shacklebolt's, and as usual, places all blame on unnaturalness on the Ministry. He doesn't seem to realize that we're not all-powerful, but he'll come around, it's no big deal. Ah,' he added, looking at the two in front of him, 'I see you have shared a few moments together, Mr Potter, Mr Black?'

Harry rolled his eyes a bit; the moment had been rather brief. "Yes, Minister."

'Excellent, excellent,' said Fudge distractedly. 'I'm afraid I must cut this short, however. You will have time after the trial to look into bridging the gap, Mr Potter. But for now, you must leave for the day. Mr Black, if you would follow me?'

'Of course, Minister,' said Sirius, looking a little mutinous but covering it with a blank face. He turned to Harry, who looked back up at him, his green eyes pleading with him. _How can anyone deny Lily's eyes?_ 'I'll see you soon, Harry.' He gave his godson another hug, and Harry leaned into it, happier now than he had been in a while.

Turning towards Mr Malfoy, Harry shook the Minister's hand again; Mr Malfoy nodded to Sirius and Fudge, and the two left the office.

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The next twenty-four hours passed by way too slowly for Harry's liking. It was only one more day until Sirius' trial, and Harry was really looking forward to seeing his godfather a second time. He couldn't wait until Sirius was free.

Such was his excitement that he could not even sit still enough to read one of his books, and it was this, more than anything, that shocked Draco Malfoy.

'You're nuts, Potter,' said the young boy with a surprised smirk. 'You're supposed to be a bookworm, remember?'

Harry merely laughed.

'I can't concentrate on things like that, Malfoy; it doesn't bode well for me. I'm too excited to see Sirius freed!'

The boys still referred to each other by their surnames; they had both seen it as a mutual sign of respect. As a matter of fact, other than Nott, everyone in their group of friends referred to each other with their last names. Nott was getting there, but he was still slightly against it.

Harry had greatly enjoyed his time spent with his new friends. He had still not met Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but he supposed that he would meet them on the Hogwarts Express. Zabini certainly didn't think highly of them, but Harry merely ignored that. Nott was great to play games against because of his competitive behavior, and Malfoy merely loved to play around with his wand. He had learned a few spells at a younger age, and he used those spells whenever he could. Twice, Harry found himself on the wrong end of a Full Body-Bind, which annoyed him when he tried to read and found himself unable to move his arms, legs, mouth and eyes, but he always laughed it off.

He was still wondering what Hogwarts House he would get into. At first, Slytherin had seemed like a shoe-in, but now he wasn't so sure. He would never take Gryffindor, because he'd be practically signing away his friends if he did that, but he thought about Ravenclaw a lot. The people in Ravenclaw were classified as bookworms, in most cases. Harry liked to think of himself as a bookworm, and as such, he wondered if he'd end up there. He laughed at the idea of Hufflepuff; he had nothing against the house, but he didn't want it. He didn't have a whole lot of loyalty at the moment. Living with his uncle and aunt had killed it off years ago. That left Slytherin. He knew he would probably end up there, and wondered if Malfoy would still recognize their friendship if he did. He hoped so. He had grown quite close with the young aristocrat.

He still enjoyed reading as much as he had before, if not more than ever. When he was not chatting happily with his three new friends, he was reading from his books for Hogwarts. He paid special attention to Transfiguration and Potions, which appeared to be the harder ones in his eyes; Transfiguration because of its complicity, and Potions because Professor Severus Snape was supposedly a very hard man to please in terms of homework and knowledge. Harry had asked Mr Malfoy about this, but Mr Malfoy merely shook his head, refusing to say anything about it. Snape was, after all, a friend of his, who had also escaped the ranks of the Dark Lord and the prison cells of Azkaban.

At last, the day of the eighteenth came, and the trial would take place. Narcissa had both Harry and Draco up early to get them ready for the trial. Draco, however, did not appreciate the six o'clock AM wake up call.

'Mother, the trial's not until noon!' he whined, against his character due to fatigue.

'Malfoys don't whine, Draco,' scolded Narcissa, brushing off his dress robes. 'Now hold still so I can straighten your robes properly, young man, or I'll Petrificus you and then have a go at it again.'

This shut Draco up. Harry, meanwhile, burst out laughing.

'You too, young Mr Potter,' said Narcissa, though not in as much of a scolding tone.

Harry immediately stopped laughing at Narcissa's stern look and straightened his robes out again. He had to admit, they looked nice. They were jet-black, like his hair, with emerald green cuffs at the ends. He tried straightening the rest of his attire up, but because his hair would simply not lie flat, Narcissa used some sort of hair spell that made it stick out in a presentable way as opposed to all over the place. Harry immediately knew that he wanted this spell for when he went to Hogwarts. Draco, meanwhile, chose silver and green robes.

A moment later, Mr Malfoy arrived. He, like Harry, wore elegant robes of dark silver and bottle green. Harry knew they were Slytherin colors.

'Are you ready, young gentlemen?' Lucius asked them, eyeing their state with approval.

'Yes sir,' said Harry and Draco in unison.

'Excellent, excellent,' said Mr Malfoy approvingly. 'Now, we must be off, we have to be at the Ministry early today. Luckily, boys, you won't have to say anything. It's simply him being questioned by Veritaserum. If that works, even Dumbledore won't be able to testify. Now let's be off.'

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The Ministry of Magic was quite busy at this time of morning. The Atrium was flooded by hordes of wizards and witches going in to work for the day, and many of them seemed rushed for reasons Harry could not see. One man, who was tall and had flaming red hair, actually bumped into them accidentally, but quickly, he apologized and took off, going Merlin knew where.

'Mental,' Harry muttered to himself, watching the red-headed man leave.

'He's a Weasley, it's not surprising,' said Mr Malfoy, his cane in his hand as he watched Mr Weasley leave. 'I do wonder how those people survive with no money to speak of sometimes. I suppose it is the work of some merciful deity up there...'

Harry didn't comment; he was used to hearing Mr Malfoy speak about different wizards and witches in a bad light. More often than not, though, Mr Malfoy was right about them.

They continued walking through the Atrium, Harry taking every chance he could to look around. It was a strange place. The Atrium itself was enormous, easily able to fit houses upon houses within it. There were fireplaces everywhere. At the far end, there was a lift that Harry knew led to different floors; this was the only thing Harry had seen last time they had been here, when they were visiting Sirius; he had been Flooed to an office near the Minister's office last time and had therefore missed seeing the Atrium.

Getting into the lift, Mr Malfoy spoke the destination, and the lift began to move downward. A few floors later, it stopped.

'Department of Mysteries,' said the cool female voice through the silence of the lift.

'This is us, Mr Potter,' said Mr Malfoy quietly, as he opened the lift and allowed Harry and Draco to step through, Narcissa behind them. As they walked, Harry took note of the eeriness of the place; whoever worked down here most likely did not see the light of day all that often, as far as Harry could see. Not only was it dark and far below ground, it seemed to stretch on for miles.

'Come along, come along,' Mr Malfoy beckoned impatiently, hustling them up. They walked up to a big door, which Mr Malfoy opened. It looked to be a large courtroom. At the back, Harry could see a large office. 'That's where we're going,' said Mr Malfoy. 'Follow me.'

They walked around the courtroom and over to the office, and Mr Malfoy threw a charm at the door to open it. He ushered Harry, Draco and Narcissa in, and walked in himself, closing the door behind him.

The office itself was quite plain, with a few sofas and three armchairs. Draco immediately walked over to the nearest couch and sat down, much to the others' amusement. Cornelius Fudge was also there, standing by the window next to a witch Harry did not recognize. Both were wearing official-looking robes. Sirius sat on one of the couches, his head in his hands, as though he were exhausted. Magical cuffs were lying on the table beside him.

'Are the cuffs really necessary?' Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

'No, Mr Potter, but they are used in all wizarding court sessions, and therefore, the accused in any case must wear them,' replied the unknown witch. Harry merely stared blankly back at her, unsure of what to think of this. It seemed like a dumb type of tradition.

'Ah, my apologies, Mr Potter,' said Fudge, stepping forward and indicating the woman standing beside him. 'Mr Potter, this is Amelia Bones, a well-respected member of the Wizengamot. Amelia, this is young Harry Potter, the godson of Mr Black.'

'An honor to meet you, Mr Potter,' said Amelia Bones. Harry smiled and bowed before moving to sit down next to Sirius.

'It's all over today,' rasped Sirius, sitting up and looking at Harry. 'Today, everything changes, and we get to be a family again.'

'I can't wait either, Sirius,' said Harry happily.

'After the trial,' began Cornelius Fudge again, 'you may return to Amelia's office with her, and we will set to work on the adoption process. After this, Mr Potter, you will officially become a Black, and you will be allowed to use either surname.'

'I'm going to choose the Black name,' announced Harry.

This surprised everyone, including Sirius.

'You're not going to stick with your parents' family name, Harry?' he asked, with something akin to disappointment in his voice. Harry looked a bit surprised at this, but said nothing about it and answered Sirius.

'It's not that I dislike the name,' said Harry, sitting up straight as he had been taught by the Malfoys. Fudge and Amelia looked slightly impressed. 'I want this new name for a few reasons. Number one is because I want to start over from what happened ten years ago, when I went to the muggles. The name 'Potter' merely reminds me of my affiliation with those muggles for ten years. Number two, I'm going to be Sirius' son. Even though I'm not a blood relative – at least, as far as I know – he will be my father, and the first father I've ever known. I'll be proud to bare his name. Number three, the Potters, my parents, had named Sirius as my guardian should anything happen to them. They would have wanted me to make this choice. I'm sure of it.'

As he finished, he looked around the room, which had become silent. Everyone present was looking at Harry with something akin to respect and pride at his words, as well as wonder. He wondered if he had said something, and voiced as much.

'You said you'd be proud to be a Black,' said a teary Sirius, 'and I'll be proud to call you my son, Harry.'

For the next few hours, the adults and the children sat around in the office, chatting amongst themselves. Harry understood why the Malfoys had rushed him now; it was for the extra time with Sirius. For the first time in a long time, he could truly say that he felt like he belonged. While the Malfoys were great, getting to know Sirius was something no one could replace for him. _They'd better not convict him._

At around one hour before the trial was due to begin, Fudge stood up.

'This has been a nice get-together between close friends,' he said, his tone business-like, 'but I'm afraid it is time that we prepare for the trial. We have to be ready with the Wizengamot, and Mr Black will have to be ready to take the stand right away.'

'Of course, Minister,' said Mr Malfoy.

The Minister, along with Madam Bones and Sirius, walked out of the office.

'We will wait here for half an hour longer,' said Mr Malfoy, looking at a gold watch fastened to his trousers, 'and then we will leave and enter the courtroom.'

That half hour passed by very quickly.

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The courtroom was full. People from many different families were here to see just what had happened with the infamous Sirius Black case. The members of the Wizengamot were all present, and Harry could tell that there would be some he would not like. One that stuck out in his mind was a stout witch sitting next to Fudge's chair who looked remarkably like some kind of toad. The bow on top of her head did not help, nor did her slight sneer.

The other person Harry recognized easily was the man Mr Malfoy had been constantly talking about: Albus Dumbledore himself. The old Headmaster looked just like everyone said he did, with a long white beard and long white hair, and half-moon spectacles against a nose that looked broken. Dumbledore seemed to feel Harry's gaze and looked back at him, and for a moment, both pairs of eyes met, emerald green on midnight blue. Dumbledore merely nodded his head mysteriously before looking back down at the room below him, ignoring any further signs of communication with the boy.

_Does he expect something of me, I wonder?_ Harry pondered to himself. _Well, who cares?_

Moments later, Fudge took his seat, followed by the other four dozen or so members of the Wizengamot, and the courtroom was silenced. Harry had to admit that he was impressed by how fast the courtroom had been quieted down; then, as he tried to whisper, he realized it had been done by magic.

'This court will come to order,' bellowed Cornelius Fudge, his earlier happy-go-lucky expressionisms brought down by his official voice and look. He turned to the rest of the Wizengamot. 'Let's begin.

'This is a full criminal trial, on the eighteenth of August, 1991, under the combined charges of murder and signed allegiance to the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named.' Harry rolled his eyes at the avoidance of Voldemort's name. 'The charges have been filed against one Sirius Orion Black. Records for a first trial not found; accused has been in custody for nine years and ten months.

'Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe: Harold Lexius Anashi. Witnesses for the defense: Lucius Cygnus Malfoy, Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.'

Mr Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the name of the last witness, and he almost fell out of his seat in surprise. His aristocratic manner saved his face at the last minute. He regained his seat properly, looking at Dumbledore with a little surprise.

_What's that old man playing at?_

'Will the accused please be brought to the stand at this time?' Fudge's voice rang through the quiet courtroom.

The courtroom seemed to quiet down even further than before as the accused was brought out by, surprisingly, the court scribe, Harold Anashi. Sirius looked weary, with his long hair hanging limply around his head and his face and skin still gaunt from years in Azkaban. He still, even now, looked like a shell of who he once was. Anashi brought Sirius over to the stand, which was actually a chair in front of the Wizengamot with chains hanging off of the arms. Sirius sat down as calmly as possible, and winced as the chains wrapped themselves around his arms, binding him to the chair. Anashi removed from his robes a small vial of what looked like pale water, and put a few drops – three, Harry counted – on his tongue.

'Do they always do that?' asked Harry to Mr Malfoy, surprised that they could speak again.

Mr Malfoy nodded. 'It's a part of being involved in a criminal trial: those who take the chair are bound to it, in case they try to revolt at the last minute and cause some form of uproar. Even without a wand, some wizards and witches are dangerous. Sirius is only bound because of the rules of the courtroom; it does not mean he is guilty.'

Harry nodded in reply, lost in thought, and turned back to the trial. It had already begun; Fudge was interrogating Sirius.

'...you are Sirius Orion Black, of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London?'

'Yes,' said Sirius in a raspy, yet determined voice.

'You were charged with the cold-blooded murder of twelve muggles and one wizard on the second of November, 1981, and sentenced to Azkaban without trial?'

'That's correct.'

'You were also convicted of the betrayal of James Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans by willingly giving their location to He Who Must Not Be Named?'

'Yes.'

'You were, at the age of sixteen, filed charges for the use of illegal hexes on one Bertram Aubrey and suspended from Hogwarts for two weeks, were you not?'

'That's right.'

Amelia Bones took over from here.

'Are you a practiced Death Eater, Mr Black?'

'No, I am not.'

'Elaborate, please,' said Madam Bones in a booming voice.

'I am not a Death Eater, Madam.'

'Do you support the late Dark Lord in any way, shape or form, outside of the Death Eater ranks? Do you know anyone who does?'

'I am firmly against the Dark Lord's ambitions,' said Sirius tonelessly, 'and the only blood relative I have who was with the Dark Lord and a recognized Death Eater died ten years ago; he was my brother, Regulus Arcturus Black.'

'Your family was supportive of the Dark Lord's motives, were they not?'

'They were not,' answered Sirius. 'They sympathized with his beliefs of pureblood dominance, but they did not support the way he made those beliefs come to pass. While the Blacks do despise muggles and muggleborns, they did not like the way both races were slaughtered at the hands of the Death Eaters.'

'Is there any living relative left in your family, Mr Black?'

'Yes,' said Sirius. 'While they are not my direct family, my three cousins are still alive as well. They are Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Andromeda Tonks. Narcissa and Andromeda are both present at this trial, as are their children.'

Harry was surprised by this; he had been under the impression that Narcissa was an only child. He had heard about Bellatrix Lestrange in passing, but he had not known that Bellatrix was a member of the Black family. He had never heard of Andromeda before.

'Narcissa and Andromeda are as against Lord Voldemort as I am,' Sirius continued, 'while my dear cousin Bellatrix is still in Azkaban for her war crimes in the name of Voldemort.'

The Wizengamot as a whole seemed to cringe at these words; apparently, they remembered exactly what had happened with Bellatrix Lestrange and her crimes during the war. Two members in particular looked furious at the memory of this. Harry wondered exactly what had happened that made even members of court angry even now, ten years later.

'Very well, Mr Black,' said Madam Bones, 'we will be looking into your family tree to check for errors in your testimony. I pass the interrogation on to Dolores Jane Umbridge, who will be reviewing your charges in the course of the interrogation.'

Both Harry and the Malfoys groaned in unison. The Malfoys apparently had a history with the toad-like woman sitting in the chair beside Fudge, while Harry somehow knew that this Umbridge woman would not be kind during her interrogation of Sirius. The fact that Umbridge was still smiling eerily did not help, in Harry's eyes.

The woman began her interrogation.

'Now, Sirius Black, thirty-one, of number twelve, Grimmauld Place,' she began, her voice disgustingly high-pitched, as though she were twelve as opposed to elderly, 'do you have anything you wish to withdraw from your previous testimony before we begin?'

'No, I do not,' said Sirius.

'Nothing at all?' asked Dolores Umbridge.

'Nothing at all,' echoed Sirius, a bit of impatience creeping into his toneless voice. Harry hid a smirk at his tone; it seemed that Sirius did not like this woman either. He'd asked Sirius some other time, after the trial was over.

'Well, Mr Black, I will only ask a few questions and then return the matter to the Minister,' said Umbridge in a sickly sweet voice, sounding anything but convincing. She raised her eyebrows as she spoke, looking more like a toad than before. 'Right, then: where were you on the second of November, at the time of the mass murder?'

'I was at the scene,' said Sirius, his voice still annoyingly expressionless, though there seemed to be a slight twinge of anger mixed in with his lack of tone.

'You were at the scene?' echoed Umbridge, looking satisfied. 'Why were you there? I believe it was a street in the muggle parts of London, and surely a pure-blooded wizard such as yourself does not have business in muggle London?'

'I was searching for someone,' answered Sirius, and this time there was a definite coldness in his tone, though Umbridge either did not notice or did not comment on it.

'Who were you searching for, Mr Black?' asked Umbridge, the greed of her curiosity evident.

'One of my best friends at the time,' Sirius replied. 'Peter Andrew Pettigrew.'

The crowd and the Wizengamot together gave a great gasp, as though he had sworn. Umbridge's eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline, and she looked immensely satisfied.

'And why, pray tell, were you looking for him?' she asked.

'I wanted to kill him,' said Sirius blankly.

'Did you now?' she said airily, with a small sneer. 'Well, I daresay you succeeded in that mission, didn't you, Mr Black? Twelve muggles slain, and all that remained of Mr Pettigrew was a bloody –'

'That is incorrect,' interrupted Sirius.

The people in the courtroom gasped again.

'What do you mean, it's incorrect?' demanded Umbridge, her voice now cold as well. 'Answer me now, Mr Black! What do you mean by your statement?'

Harry could sense that she sounded desperate, but couldn't think of why.

'I mean to say that my attempted murder on Peter Pettigrew was a failure. I did not manage to kill him.'

'Surely you jest!' snapped Umbridge. 'Is the Veritaserum in your throat dying off, Mr Black? I believe anyone who recalls seeing the street after your attack would remember that all that remained of Mr Pettigrew's body was a single finger, bloodied and deadened!'

'It was a set-up,' said Sirius calmly, seemingly enjoying the look on Umbridge's face. Harry was impressed with the way Sirius was handling himself in the presence of this woman. 'The man in question did not die, and he is, in fact, still at large, hidden from the public eye. You see, Peter Pettigrew, along with myself and another friend of ours, is an Animagus.'

'What form do you all take?' Madam Bones asked, before Umbridge could deny it.

'I take the form of a dog resembling the Grim,' said Sirius, his voice toneless again. 'James Potter, my old friend, took the form of a stag. Remus Lupin, who is also our friend, though not present today for whatever reason, is not an Animagus at all, but a werewolf. And Peter Pettigrew, the traitorous little rat that he is, is just that: a rat.'

'Peter Pettigrew took the form of a rat?' Umbridge said loftily, as though she did not believe it.

'Yes,' said Sirius.

'You realize, of course, that it is a crime to have an Animagus form without registering here at the Ministry of Magic, do you not?' Umbridge all but yelled, seemingly determined to regain control of the interrogation.

'I do,' said Sirius. 'At the time, we were Animagus solely because we were determined to help Remus Lupin keep control of himself during his transformations, because there was no such thing as the wolfsbane potion.'

'Ah, yes, the werewolf,' said Umbridge, and now she looked as though she were in her element. 'You performed these monthly rituals during your time at Hogwarts?'

'Yes.'

'You knowingly risked the life of not only yourself, but one James Potter and one Peter Pettigrew, during your time with the half-breed monster every single month during your school time?'

'Remus is not a half-breed,' said Sirius coldly, looking at Umbridge with disgust, 'and yes, we did. For the record, James and Peter were willing; in fact, it was James's idea.'

Most of the Wizengamot was now looking at Umbridge with anger, as was the entirety of the crowd, though she did not notice. Fudge looked a bit upset with the way things were running as well, but could do nothing about it; it was her interrogation right now, not his.

'Mr Black, did you kill one dozen muggles and one wizard on the second of November, 1981?' asked Umbridge coldly.

'No, I did not.'

'Who killed them, then?'

'Peter Pettigrew,' was the reply.

'It seems quite easy to frame the murder on someone who is not here to defend himself, and also presumed dead, doesn't it, Mr Black?'

'It's very easy,' said Sirius. 'However, I do not defend the deceased. Peter Pettigrew is alive. You have heard it several times under the influence of Veritaserum; I am starting to think that your reluctance to see this truth is because of something outside of the trial.'

'That is irrelevant!' snapped Umbridge, much to everyone's shock; was there something deeper there? 'How did Pettigrew kill the twelve muggles, Black?'

'He used a spell that blew up everything twenty feet around us, with his wand behind his back,' said Sirius, remembering clearly the events of that fateful day, 'and then sliced off his own finger and fled as a rat. He has been a rat ever since.'

'So he left his finger as evidence, did he?' Umbridge sneered.

'That is correct,' said Sirius.

'Very well,' said Umbridge, who looked furious now. 'There is also the matter of the Potters. As I recall, _you_ were the Secret-Keeper for the Potters, were you not?'

'I was not,' answered Sirius.

'That does not fit in with what many witches and wizards said during the time you were first imprisoned,' shot back Umbridge.

'They were misled by myself, Pettigrew, and the Potters,' said Sirius. 'I started off at the Secret-Keeper of the Potters, but not long before they died, I switched with Pettigrew.'

'Why did you do this?'

'It seemed likely at the time that Voldemort would look for me if he were to try and find the Potters, not Pettigrew. We did this to keep them alive. We had no idea that Pettigrew was a Death Eater, one who spied on us.'

'So you indirectly caused their deaths?'

'That is an unfair statement,' snapped Sirius, who was starting to overcome the earlier effects of his toneless speech. 'As I said, we had no idea that Pettigrew was one of Voldemort's followers; we did not see it likely that he would betray the Potters. I was sure that he would come after me, not Peter.'

Umbridge raised one eyebrow.

'That does not answer my question,' she said with a sickly smile. 'Did you or did you not indirectly cause the deaths of Lily and James Potter?'

Sirius sighed. 'Yes, I did,' he replied, resigning himself to his fate.

Umbridge smirked. 'No further questions.'

Fudge stood up. He looked as though he were sweating up a storm. He turned to Harold Anashi and muttered something to him; Anashi nodded. He then turned to Madam Bones, who also nodded.

'Would the first witness please take the stand?' Fudge said, his voice echoing through the courtroom.

There was a witness stand at the far left of the Wizengamot area, and Mr Malfoy stood up and walked toward it, taking his seat calmly. He waited for an interrogator to stand up and begin the interrogation, and Madam Bones did. Anashi walked over and gave three drops of Veritaserum to Mr Malfoy.

'Full name?' asked Madam Bones.

'Lucius Cygnus Malfoy,' was the reply.

'You are here to defend the accused and prove that his actions did not occur?'

'I am,' Mr Malfoy replied.

'Very well,' said Madam Bones, taking her seat again in the Wizengamot section, beside Fudge, who looked anxious. 'What is your story?'

'At the time of the Dark Lord's first uprising,' began Mr Malfoy, 'I was taken by three members of the Death Eater rankings and brought before him. He tried to talk me into becoming one, but being the proud man I am, I refused. He then placed me under the Imperius Curse. I know this because it was poorly placed; while I could not control my actions, I was in full awareness of them. I simply could not control myself; the Dark Lord saw to this. Among his rankings, Sirius Black was never seen. I did see Regulus Black, who died mysteriously not long before the Potters did, and Severus Snape, who has been defended by Albus Dumbledore. I also saw a short man who looked very cowardly and seemed to have close contact with the alliance directed against the Dark Lord. It was only after Sirius Black's imprisonment that I learned of this man being Peter Pettigrew. When the Dark Lord was vanquished and the Imperius Curse was broken, I immediately reformed my actions. I have never murdered in the name of the Dark Lord. He had me lead missions, not actively participate in them.'

Madam Bones looked impressed with the testimony, as though she had expected all of it, and so did Cornelius Fudge. Some, however, such as Umbridge, merely sneered at this.

'So Sirius Black was not a member of the Death Eaters, and did not have contact with He Who Must Not Be Named?' Madam Bones asked.

'He did not,' replied Mr Malfoy. 'If he had, I would have known right away, as my influenced position with the Dark Lord made me one of his right hand soldiers. I have never seen Sirius Black with the Dark Lord, or acting under his orders, at any point in my life.'

'Very well,' said Madam Bones. 'You may leave the stand.'

Mr Malfoy nodded and stood up, leaving the stand and going back to sit beside Harry. Madam Bones watched him sit down before reading off the name of the next witness.

'Next witness, please take the stand,' she said, her voice booming through the entire room.

Narcissa stood up, gave her son's shoulder a light squeeze, and calmly walked over to the witness stand. She pushed her long blonde hair back behind her shoulders, letting her face stay in full view. She looked quite confident, and even more so as the Veritaserum was administered.

'Full name?' was Madam Bones' first question.

'Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black,' she replied

'You are a blood relative of Sirius Orion Black?'

'Yes, I am,' replied Narcissa. 'I am his first cousin.'

'Very well,' said Madam Bones. 'Have you heard or seen Sirius Orion Black practice in the use of the Dark Arts, or follow under the Dark Lord's motives, Mrs Malfoy?'

'I have not,' said Narcissa, 'and I am sure I would have if it had happened, because of my sister's involvement in the Death Eater ranks.'

'Your cousin did not take part in any Death Eater missions?'

'Never,' said Narcissa. 'The only part he took was fighting back against the Death Eaters with the other Aurors of the time.'

'You are sure?' asked Madam Bones.

'I am positive,' was Narcissa's reply.

'Very well,' said Madam Bones. 'You may leave the stand.'

Narcissa nodded and stood up, the effects of the Veritaserum leaving her immediately. She walked off of the stand and went back to her position beside her son, in front of Harry and Mr Malfoy.

'Final witness, please take the stand,' demanded Madam Bones.

As her voice rang through the crowd, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat in the Wizengamot and walked over to the witness stand, looking quite cheerful, as though this were just another ordinary day for the elderly man. He calmly took his seat and let the Veritaserum be administered to him.

'Full name?' was the first question.

'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,' said the old Headmaster cheerfully, to Harry's surprise; he was not toneless like the others had been when they had received the potion.

'You were on the same side as Sirius Orion Black during the time of the war?' asked Madam Bones.

'Yes,' said Professor Dumbledore.

'You were one of the many who did not disagree with the conviction of Sirius Orion Black ten years ago, were you not?'

'Sadly, I was.'

'Did you have reasons for not defending Mr Black? As a member of the Wizengamot, you were fully entitled to bring up the idea for a trial for Mr Black, whether the idea was agreed upon or not. You did not do so.'

'At the time, Lord Voldemort had just been vanquished,' said Dumbledore pleasantly. 'When Sirius Black went after Peter Pettigrew – and take note, we believed Mr Black to be the Secret-Keeper of the Potters – we assumed it was to bring down another of his old friends, since he had assumedly brought down the first one, James Charlus Potter and Lily Geraldine Potter nee Evans. We thought he had been trying to avenge Lord Voldemort by killing his old friends. We were, fortunately, mistaken, and we regret our lack of judgment.'

_Of course you do, Dumbledore, if it means escaping trouble,_ Mr Malfoy mentally sneered.

'Mr Dumbledore, did Mr Black take part in any Death Eater activity that you know of?'

'Mr Black was working with myself and several others in trying to bring down Lord Voldemort,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Aside from our group thinking that he had killed James and Lily, we knew of no other Death Eater activity from the last heir of the Blacks.'

'So other than the error in judgment involving the Potters, you knew of no Dark Arts practice with Mr Black?'

'None whatsoever,' replied Professor Dumbledore.

'Very well,' said Madam Bones. 'You may leave the stand.'

Dumbledore stood up, bowed politely to Madam Bones, and walked back over to his spot in the section of the Wizengamot. Calmly, he sat down, and Harry, who had been surprised at the testimony, watched him from where he sat. Dumbledore did not turn to greet him again.

For several minutes, the Wizengamot discussed the trial in whispers, and twice, they looked down at Sirius Black, who was sitting patiently, watching them. The chains seemed to have loosened their hold because he was sitting with a little less force upon him. After ten minutes had passed, Madam Bones spoke again, her monocle flashing against her eye.

'Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?' she demanded, her voice ringing through the courtroom, filled with authority for her position.

Many hands shot up; Harry counted them himself, feeling desperate; he silently cheered when he noticed that a good four-fifths of the Wizengamot was on their side. Fudge and Madam Bones had raised their hands as well, as had Albus Dumbledore.

'Those opposed?' Madam Bones asked again, dropping her hand as she spoke.

Only nine or ten people raised their hands this time, including a few at the back, and Dolores Umbridge, who looked as though she would go insane any second; she was that furious.

Madam Bones looked at her suspiciously, but said nothing. Cornelius Fudge stood up and looked at Sirius.

'You are hereby cleared of all charges,' he said, his voice ringing. 'You are free to go, Mr Black. The Ministry will provide you with a new wand upon your full release.'

The courtroom burst into applause; it seemed that Sirius had a lot of people who had supported him in this trial, and Harry, who was clapping hardest of all, jumped out of his seat, climbed and jumped over many other seats, and ran to give Sirius, who was released from the chains and was standing up, a big hug. Sirius hugged him back, life and emotion flooding into his eyes.

'You're free,' Harry whispered, happiness claiming him as he cried.

'I'm free,' Sirius echoed, equally as joyfully.

But they separated quickly; Sirius stood up, looking over Harry's head at another wizard who was crossing the room to get to them. Harry turned around. A tall man with graying hair and patchy robes was walking towards them. He looked more than overjoyed.

'Old friend,' he said softly, 'it's good to see you free again.'

Sirius said nothing, but pulled his friend towards him, and they exchanged a big manly hug of happiness. Harry knew at once who this must be; after all, Sirius had said that Remus Lupin was one of his best friends during his time at and after Hogwarts.

When they broke apart, the man turned around to face Harry, and kneeled down so that they were on eye-level.

'It's good to finally meet you again, Harry Potter,' he said, emotion filling his voice. 'My name is Remus Lupin. I knew your father and Sirius quite well during my time at Hogwarts.'

'It's nice to meet you, too, Mr Lupin,' said Harry happily, glad to meet another friend of his deceased father. He had heard nothing but bad stories about Pettigrew, and was glad to meet someone who hadn't gone badly. The fact that Remus Lupin was a werewolf meant nothing to Harry; nobody could be defined simply because of something they could not control.

'I'm glad,' smiled Remus Lupin, 'but please, don't call me Mr Lupin, it makes me feel a lot older than I actually am. Call me Moony.'

'Moony?' asked Harry blankly, confused by this.

'Yes, Moony,' said Lupin, laughing a little at this. 'It was my nickname at Hogwarts. Your father, Sirius, and Peter also had nicknames. Your father was Prongs; Sirius is Padfoot; Peter is Wormtail. They're names for our animal forms, as well as our Marauder names.'

'You were Marauders?'

'Yes, that is what everyone called us,' Lupin chuckled.

Harry looked at Sirius, as though to see what Lupin was saying within Sirius. For his part, Sirius stared blankly back, until Harry finally snapped his fingers.

'All right, I see it now,' said Harry with a small grin. 'It's the look of a mutt. I can see it in his eyes.'

Lupin burst out laughing. Sirius looked mock angry at this and pouted a little, his gaunt face showing happiness for the first true time in a long time.

'Gentlemen, I'd hate to interrupt your little reunion,' said Mr Malfoy, who was walking towards them, 'but we have to clear out of the courtroom at the present time. Everyone else has left.'

Harry, Sirius and Lupin all looked around. It was true; the courtroom was empty except for themselves, Mr Malfoy, Draco, and Fudge and Umbridge, who were packing up. Fudge was trifling through his papers, looking relieved at the events that had taken place; Umbridge, however, was looking down at Harry and Sirius with undisguised hatred. She then looked at Lupin and her hatred turned into a mix of loathing and disgust. Harry cringed, remembering the way she had called Lupin a half-breed. However, Lupin raised an arm and waved cheerfully at Umbridge, who sniffed angrily and walked away. Lupin smiled and looked back at Sirius and Mr Malfoy, who were talking about something.

'Ah, Lucius, I don't think you've been acquainted with my friend, Remus?' Sirius said, remembering that he had forgotten. He gestured towards Lupin. 'Lucius, this is Remus Lupin. Moony, old friend, this is Lucius Malfoy, without whom I would not have been released from Azkaban.'

Mr Malfoy offered a hand hesitantly, clearly worried about Lupin's reaction. His worry was unfounded, however, for Lupin raised his own hand and shook Lucius's good-heartedly.

'Yes, I heard about your part in Sirius's release,' said Lupin. 'I don't think we've personally met, Mr Malfoy, but I have heard good things about you. I'm glad the bad things I've heard were untrue.'

'It's good to meet you, too, Mr Lupin,' said Mr Malfoy evenly.

They released, and Mr Malfoy ran his eyes over Lupin's state of attire. He looked a little displeased with it, and he looked back up and voiced this.

'I do think I should help you gain a new wardrobe, Remus,' he said, 'but that's a conversation for another time. Let us leave and have lunch; it's going on two o'clock now.'

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Two and a half hours later found Harry, Sirius, Mr Malfoy, Lupin, Narcissa and Draco in the Department of Magical Adoption and Parental Control, inside its main office. Draco looked restless, as did Narcissa and Lupin, but Harry and Sirius were positively bouncing with anticipation, and Mr Malfoy merely looked indifferent. Harry later learned that Mr Malfoy always carried an indifferent, careless look while in public.

A minute later, a young woman stepped out, carrying a clipboard. She looked to be the secretary of the office.

'Harry James Potter and Sirius Orion Black?' she asked immediately, pushing her glasses off of her nose, and both wizards mentioned stood up. 'Excellent. Please come with me.'

Harry and Sirius looked at each other before looking forward and following the woman. She led them into a small office with a desk and three chairs, with a bunch of cabinets surrounding them. She took a seat behind the desk, and Harry and Sirius took seats in front of her.

'Now,' she said, pulling out a piece of parchment and looking over it, 'you are here, Sirius Orion Black, to file for the right to become Harry James Potter's legal guardian?'

'Yes,' replied Sirius. 'I feel it is my right.'

'Do you have any connection with Mr Potter, since you're not a relative?'

'Yes, I'm his godfather.'

'Were you enlisted to be the guardian of Mr Potter upon the deaths of his parents?' asked the woman, still not looking up from her parchment.

'Yes,' said Sirius. 'It was in their will. I was to be Harry's guardian if they died during the war. Because I was imprisoned, I was unable to fulfill this role. I am here to take it now.'

The woman listened, still not looking up.

'Very well,' she said. 'You will have to sign some parchments in order to fully gain custody of young Mr Potter.'

And so it began. For the next half an hour, Sirius looked through the different parchments, signing where he had to, all the while pulling at his now tied back hair with irritation. Finally, after the half hour had passed by, he stood up.

'There,' he said. 'It's all signed. Do I get custody now?'

The woman smiled at his impatience. 'Yes, Mr Black, you now have full custody of Harry James Potter-Black.'

'There's one more thing, though,' said Sirius, remembering what Harry had said earlier. 'We'd like to change Harry's name completely. He himself gave the full reasoning. He'd like to become Harry Black, rather than Harry Potter-Black.'

The woman looked slightly surprised.

'Mr Potter, when you do this, you will be signing away your family name,' she said worriedly. 'Are you sure that you want to give it away?'

'I'm not throwing it off for keeps,' Harry answered politely. 'I'd just like to share the same name as Sirius, since he's becoming my new father. Besides, my family has been dead for years. I'm the only Potter. I know my father, James, would be proud to know that Sirius was raising me as a Black.'

'Well, if you're sure,' said the woman, and she pulled out another parchment, 'but you, Mr Black, have some more documents to sign for this –'

'Oh, for Merlin's sake,' muttered Sirius as he took the document and began the grueling process of signing parchment after parchment again. Another fifteen minutes passed before he finished this time.

'All right,' said the woman, waving her wand at the documents, which flashed with blue light. 'You are now officially a Black, Harry. I hope everything goes well, Misters Black.'

'We'll be fine,' laughed Sirius. 'Thank you for your time.'

The two bowed their heads respectfully and left the office. The moment they walked out, Draco walked over and high-fived Harry.

'Well done, Harry!' he said enthusiastically. 'You're officially a member of the family! You're my new cousin!'

'Calm down, Draco,' he laughed, 'I was family all along. It's just official now.'

The adults exchanged smiles, and Sirius felt better than he had for a long time.

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Author's Note:

I know, I know, it's been a long time since I've updated this. I can only blame college, work, other fanfictions, more work, and other stories of my creation. I now have five chapters up (well, four plus the prologue) for my new installment, To Deny Your Fate, if any of you are interested in reading it.

The ending was a bit sappy, I know, but think about it from Harry's point of view. Now think harder. All right, I think you got it. He doesn't care about appearances; he's too damned happy. Third chapter will be up before long, don't worry. Now that I'm off from college for a month, updates will come faster.

That's all I got to say for now. Read and review! Ta-ta, folks.


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